


Part Of Me

by Throneofgames



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: All the Starks are dead, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Discussion of Abortion, Don't really know what I'm doing, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Jon and Sansa Are Not Related, Jon is a lawyer, Mildly Dubious Consent, Minor Jon Snow/Ygritte, Secret Relationship, Secret kid, Single mother sansa, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2018-11-04 22:34:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 51,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11000403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Throneofgames/pseuds/Throneofgames
Summary: Sansa closed her eyes and steeled herself for what was about to come. Slowly, she turned around to face him. She let her eyes rove over his face. A face she knew by heart. A face she couldn’t forget even if she wanted to. It was the face she looked into every day for the past four years. Except for the eyes. Blue eyes met deep grey.“Jon,” she breathed.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so as you can probably tell this is my first fic. I'm not exactly sure where I'm going with this story, as of right now I only have a rough idea. I just couldn't get this idea out of my head. I love Jon and Sansa together they're so shippable especially in modern aus (who am I kidding I literally ship Sansa with everyone). Anyways, if you decide to keep reading this story has got a few twists and turns coming I'm definitely going to have to update those tags when the time comes. Hope you enjoy!

 

The deafening screech of Sansa’s alarm greeted her on Monday morning. Groaning, she reached over to stop the offending noise. No matter how early she got to bed on Sunday nights, Monday always came much too quickly for her liking.

Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she made her way into the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face. Sansa walked to her closet, eyeing the clock as she did, and laid out her clothes for the day. After applying minimal makeup—just a bit of mascara and some blush—she gave herself a long, hard look in the mirror. She felt older than any twenty-two year old had a right to.

Glancing at the clock on her nightstand again, Sansa sighed. Quickly running a brush through her long red hair and throwing on her clothes she walked out of her bedroom to the smaller room down the hall.

Pushing open the slightly ajar door, she padded softly into the light blue room that had once been a nursery. Seeing the small form curled up under the bundle of blankets, Sansa allowed a smile to emerge on her face for the first time all morning.

“Robbie,” she cooed, softly. Walking closer she sat on the edge of the bed next to the little bundle and peeled back the blankets. Black curls were the first to come into view, then eyes still closed in slumber, and a tiny button nose, followed by lips forming a benign pout, until at last, Sansa was gazing upon the face of her little boy. Brushing back those springy raven curls from the toddler’s forehead, she tried again to rouse him. 

“Come on, my little love. It’s time to get up. We have school today, remember? You don’t want to be late do you?” After a moment, bleary eyes were fluttering open to meet her own. Electric blue. The color of the sky right before a storm or the ocean—deep and endless. Her mother’s eyes. _Her eyes_. The only piece of herself she could recognize in her son. The rest of the traits he’d inherited had come directly from his father. Sansa’s heart clenched as she shook off the painful thought. _Not today_.

“Can you get yourself dressed while I make breakfast or do you want me to help you?” 

Robbie raised his arms over his head in a stretching motion while grumbling, “No, I can do it.” Sansa smiled inwardly at the sullen tone of her toddler; brooding so early in the morning.

“Are you sure?” she asked with a grin, leaning over him so that the ends of her hair tickled his face and neck. A small smile emerged on the boy’s face. She rained down kisses on his chubby cheeks and neck while asking in a sing-song voice, “Are you absolutely, positutely, super duper, extra sure?” The cozy apartment was filled with Robbie’s squeals and laughter as he flailed his arms and legs about trying in vain to stop the onslaught of kisses. Finally, she sat back gazing down at her son and laughed genially.

“Okay, are you up now? Go brush your teeth and get dressed while I make some breakfast. Do you want anything in particular?” 

The four year old pretended to think for a moment.

“Mm, Pop tarts!”

Sansa laughed. It was always the same. Robbie jumped up and ran to the bathroom while she went to the kitchen. She warmed up a pop tart for him and put it on a plate next to a glass of orange juice as she waited for her tea to brew.

She looked around at their small but homey apartment. The living room was filled with mismatched furniture that she had found at various thrift shops. The kitchen table was a decent size but it had more than a few nicks in it along with a wobbly leg. She thought about her car parked outside. It was about a decade old but it still got them from point A to B which was all that mattered. All in all, things could be worse. Things were tight but they were doing all right for themselves.

It hadn’t been the life Sansa had imagined for herself when she was a little girl but she had done what was necessary in order to take care of Robbie. Since she found out she was pregnant at eighteen, it had been the only thing she'd wanted to do. He deserved the world and Sansa would be damned if she didn’t at least try and give him exactly that.

Even with her spoiling him whenever it was possible, Sansa had gotten extremely lucky when it came to her son. Robbie was the sweetest little boy anyone could ever hope to have. He was smart for his age, kind and considerate when it came to others and he could always put a smile on her face when it felt like the world was determined to bring her down.

Sansa pondered how drastically things had changed in the past four years. She wouldn’t change one thing about her life with her son. Only on rare occasions when she was feeling especially masochistic did she allow herself to indulge in exploring certain scenarios where things could have turned out differently if some things had happened...and if some had not.

Sansa thought of her family then; how terribly she missed them. She would give anything to see them again, to have Robbie meet them. She could imagine her father hoisting up his grandson, flying him through the air as he had done to Sansa and all her siblings. She could see Robbie running and laughing while playing in the yard of the house where she grew up with Rickon and Bran. Arya would be the mischievous one, teaching him things like how to pick a lock or throw a punch correctly, while her mother reprimanded her for teaching such things to her sweet grandson. And her brother Robb, who Robbie had been named after, would have been the best uncle. But he never got the chance; none of them had.

 

*****

 

After Sansa had dropped Robbie off at preschool, she headed to her work at a small investment banking firm where she was the secretary and occasional receptionist. Unfortunately for her, her boss was a complete jerk. Not to mention his son, who came in from time to time, gave her the creeps. It wasn’t all bad though. The salary wasn’t terrible—granted, it wasn’t as good as it could be—and the work wasn’t exceedingly difficult when her boss wasn’t being unreasonable. If he was in a decent mood and Sansa finished her work earlier than usual he was usually pretty good about letting her leave early as long as he wasn’t waiting to spring another load of files on her at the last minute.

The best thing about it though, was that most of the time her work schedule fit perfectly with Robbie’s school schedule and the babysitter’s hours. Sansa had been lucky to find a babysitter in the same apartment building they lived in; an older woman in her late sixties named Barbrey and whom Robbie called “Barbie” since he had a hard time pronouncing her name correctly. She was a no-nonsense woman that Robbie liked well enough and that didn’t charge an arm and a leg to babysit a toddler for a few hours.

She thought back to when she had dropped him off at preschool earlier that morning. Sansa smiled thinking about the progress they had made when it came to him getting used to being away from her during the day. The first day had been brutal. Robbie was naturally a shy, cautious boy and it took some time to get him to feel comfortable, especially when it came to meeting new people.

When Sansa had tried to leave him the first day he had bawled and begged her not to go. It affected her so greatly that she gave in, holding back tears of her own while telling the teacher they would try again the next day. That had been a couple months ago. Since then, Robbie was getting used to spending the few hours a day at preschool with his friends and the remaining hours, until Sansa got off work, with Barbrey.

The end of the work day already on her mind, Sansa glanced at the clock in the top right hand corner of her computer. Groaning inwardly, she started the menial but time consuming task of sorting through the stack of client folders on her desk.

 

By the time Sansa had finished with all of her work, it was around half an hour before Barbrey would be picking Robbie up from school. She was chewing on her bottom lip while wondering if she should risk asking her boss if she could clock out early. He didn’t seem to be in a particularly foul mood and it had been a relatively light work load that day. Glancing at the clock again she decided to go for it. She walked from her desk to his office door and knocked lightly. Once she heard him grant her entrance she opened the door and poked her head around, clearing her throat.

“Sorry to disturb you, but I finished with all of the files on my desk and there’s nothing more left to do unless you have anything that needs to be taken care of?” Without looking up from his computer, the balding man shook his head. Sansa pressed on. “Okay, well then if it’s alright with you I’m going to clock out for the day.” 

Piercing eyes looked at her then. Sansa stilled. After a beat, he said in that unnervingly calm voice of his, “Is there something more important that requires your attention?”

“No, I—” Sansa stuttered, “I mean, I was just going to pick my son up from school since I’d finished with all the files, but if you need me to stay I can.” He was quietly staring at her again, processing her words.

“Good day, Ms. Stark,” was his only reply before going back to staring at his computer screen.

“Have a good day, Mr. Bolton,” she said quietly, shutting the door behind her.

 

Sansa called Barbrey as she walked to her car, letting her know that she didn’t need to pick up Robbie from school. Driving from the office to the preschool, Sansa rolled her windows down and admired the exceptionally beautiful weather they were having. Even if it cost her an uncomfortable exchange with her creep of a boss, getting off early would totally be worth it when Robbie saw that it was Sansa picking him up. And he would _really_ be excited once she told him they were going to his favorite ice cream shop in town; after all, the weather demanded it.

Pulling up to the school, she got out and walked around to lean against the side of the car to wait for him. After five minutes, she heard the high squeaky voices of excited children eager to get home, pouring through the doors of the school. She scanned the horde for a head of bouncy black curls. Before she saw him, she heard his voice.

“Mama!”

She looked into the crowd and saw him bounding towards her. She opened her arms for him.

“Hi, my little love!”

She swept him up until his small arms were locked around her neck and he was firmly wrapped around her like a vine.

“How come you’re here? I thought Barbie was picking me up?”

Sansa smiled at him. “Well, I saw how nice it was outside so I worked really hard so I could finish all my work early and I could come and get you and we could go—“ Sansa broke off, widening her smile.

“Where? Go where mama?” the little boy asked, excitedly.

“Oh, only to your most favorite ice cream shop in the whole wide world,” she said, rubbing her nose against his.

Robbie squealed in delight and bounced up and down in his mother’s arms. Sansa put him down and took the backpack that was about twice his size from him as he climbed into the booster seat in the back. She got in the driver’s side and started to pull away from the curb when she noticed the other mom’s giving her the side eye.

She was used to it by now. They liked to look down on her because she was the youngest mother there, not to mention unmarried and there was no male figure in Robbie’s life that they knew of. She tried not to let it bother her but she couldn’t help thinking what she would say when her son started asking questions about things she didn’t know how to answer.

 

*****

 

The ice cream shop they went to was called Aemon’s Ice Cream & Sweets. It was owned by a kind old man named Aemon that Robbie took an instant liking to the first time Sansa brought him there. It was styled like an old 1950’s ice cream parlor with the long counter, stool seats and black and white checkered floors. They had about every ice cream flavor you could ever imagine on top of various other kinds of sweets and goodies.

When they walked in, the bell over the door chimed. From behind the long counter a head popped up. It was old Mr. Aemon dressed in a white t-shirt, black slacks, a white apron and one of those white paper hats from the '50's. When he saw them, a smile lit up his face.

“Sansa! Robbie! I was wondering when you two would show up, it’s been almost two weeks since you last came in to visit me.”

Robbie hoisted himself into one of the stools in front of the counter, his little legs dangling a few feet above the ground.

“Mama’s been real busy at work and usually Barbie doesn’t really like going nowhere on account of her bad knee.”

Sansa giggled at Robbie’s explanation and sat in the seat next to him.

“Oh?” Aemon inquired looking to Sansa.

“Yep, and you know how my boss can get Mr. Aemon. I’ve complained enough about him to you,” she joked.

“Oh yeah, well you just tell that old stickler that he better be treating you properly, you’re a nice girl and you deserve to be treated like one! Right kiddo?” He turned to Robbie who was currently eyeing the array of candy behind the counter.

“Right!” he echoed, still focused on the sweets.

“Why don’t you come on behind the counter and pick out a piece candy and I’ll make you and your mom a root beer float?”

Robbie hopped off his stool so fast he knocked into Sansa’s legs on the way down, making her laugh. Before he went around the counter he turned back to her. “Oh mama, can you get my back pack out from the car? I have a picture in there that I drawed and I wanna show Mr. Aemon!”

“Ooo a picture? For me, huh?” Aemon asked.

Sansa looked at him. “Do you mind if I run out to the car really quick?”

“Of course not,” Aemon looked back to where Robbie was trying to choose between a candy bar and a pack of bubble gum, “Looks like he’ll be occupied for a bit. Besides I can handle the little bugger for ten minutes.”

She smiled. “Okay, I’ll just be a minute.”

Walking out of the ice cream parlor and a little ways down the street to where she parked, Sansa again ruminated on how perfect the weather was. It was turning out to be a really nice day, overlooking the incident with her boss, but that was no matter now. She wasn’t going to let anything ruin this beautiful day.

Just as she had begun to dig through her purse to find her car keys, Sansa heard a voice say her name. She froze on the spot. She knew that voice and who it belonged to. A voice she hadn’t heard in four years and was not expecting to ever hear again. _Oh, no_. This couldn’t be happening. _Oh please, no_.

“Sansa?” the voice said again, coming closer.

Sansa closed her eyes and steeled herself for what was about to come. Slowly, she turned around to face him. Starting at his feet she noticed the shiny shoes he was wearing. Moving her eyes upward she took in the fact that he was wearing a suit. An expensive suit. Black, of course, with a black dress shirt and a grey tie.

Finally, she let her eyes rove over his face. A face she knew by heart. A face she couldn’t forget even if she wanted to. It was a face she looked into every day for the past four years. _Except for the eyes_. Blue eyes met deep grey.

“Jon,” she breathed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we get to see more of Jon and Sansa's relationship, and get a little bit of their backstory! Hope you enjoy!

The last time Sansa Stark had seen Jon Snow had been four years ago. _Four years_. It might as well have been a lifetime; for Sansa it was. She was a different person then, so completely different from the person she was now.

Back then, she had a family and a home and friends and a life filled with all the opportunities that belonged to a young girl of eighteen. But she didn't have Robbie then. She had built a life for the two of them out of the rubble and ash that had threatened to suffocate her before.

Getting away from everything, the memories and the tragedy and the pain of what had happened had been her mission. And she did it. Anything that had reminded her of that dreadful time in her life had to be left behind; so she fled hundreds of miles away. The farther she ran the easier it became to breathe. Like a cloud of misery had been surrounding her, choking her and the only way to thwart it was to keep putting distance between her and it.

For a time, it had worked. For a while Sansa could believe she had built this impenetrable wall around her and Robbie so that nothing could ever hurt them or make them endure the kind of suffering that she had experienced before. But she was wrong. If that were true, she wouldn't have been standing in front of Jon Snow at that very moment feeling as if someone had sucked all the air out of her lungs.

She stared at him, mutely, just trying to remember how to breathe correctly so she didn't pass out on the sidewalk. She took in his appearance. He had changed since she had last seen him. Besides the obvious high priced suit that now adorned him, he had grown his hair out.

It was pulled back sleekly into a bun and he had scruff on his face that she couldn't remember seeing on him before. He also looked older, more weary than he used to, with small wrinkles around his eyes starting to form. At least she wasn't the only one who had aged prematurely.

Jon was staring back at her, seemingly as dumbfounded. Just when Sansa thought one of them had better say something before it became even more uncomfortable, he spoke. "It really is you." There was wonderment in his voice. "I thought for sure I was hallucinating," he said, giving a disbelieving laugh.

Sansa swallowed the lump in her throat. "It's me," she said, just above a whisper.

Before she completely lost it, she gathered her bearings. "Uh, what—what are you doing here?"

Jon seemed to collect himself at that moment too. "I'm actually on my way back from a job interview."

"Job interview?" Sansa asked with furrowed brows.

"Yeah, with one of the law firms down here," he said. Just then she noticed the briefcase he had been holding in his left hand.

"You—you're a lawyer now?"

He gave a small smile and nodded his head. "Guess I have your dad to thank for that. He's the one who pointed me in the right direction all those years ago."

Sansa bit down on her lip and looked down at the mention of her dad. It was painful hearing someone else bring him up so casually, even years later. Especially someone who knew him well.

Jon caught on to her discomfort and quickly tried to change the subject. "So, what about you? What are you doing in the city? Is your design school nearby?"

Cringing internally, she looked away from him. She didn't realize he would still remember that. It had been her dream to go to design school when she was younger, but other things had happened and it had become an impossibility.

She felt envious of him in that moment. He had set out to do what he always said he would. He wanted to be a lawyer; to fight for justice, peace and equality, just like her father. She realized he was still waiting for her to answer his question.

"Oh, no. I live here, in the city. The uh—the design school...well it didn't really work out like I had hoped," she said nervously, looking away from him. 

His brows pulled together in concern. "That's too bad. Really, Sansa I know how much it used to mean to you. You were really talented, too."

She let out a wry laugh. "Yeah," she looked up at him and suddenly felt an irrational stab of anger, "there were many things that _used_ to mean a lot to me. Things change."

Sansa felt her walls crumbling. She had to get out of there, she wasn't going to last much longer. Avoiding eye contact with him she mumbled, "I should go, I have somewhere to be." She made to turn around back towards the ice cream shop when his arm shot out to stop her. Startled, she looked up into his burning grey eyes. 

"Sansa, I—"

They were interrupted by the sound of a child's voice calling out. "Mama! Did you get my back pack? I have to show Mr. Aemon my picture before we go home! Also, you were taking too long so I kinda ate most of the root beer float but it's okay cause—"

Robbie stopped mid-sentence noticing that Sansa was not alone. She closed her eyes briefly before opening them and flicking them up to see Jon staring at Robbie with a mixture of bewilderment and shock. No doubt, he was seeing his own expression reflected back at him.

She glanced over her shoulder to see her son inching closer to her, using her as a sort of shield between himself and Jon, as he had been known to do when in the presence of a stranger. Sansa felt like she could pass out right there on the sidewalk with how fast her heart was pounding at that moment. They needed to leave, quickly, before things had the chance to get even worse.

Finally, she swallowed the panic and other various emotions threatening to strangle her and picked Robbie up. "Come on, little love. It's time to go." She didn't look at Jon as she hurried to the car but out of the corner of her eye she could see him turning to follow them as if he were going to protest.

Anxiety seized her just as Jon managed to force out a strangled, "Wait—"

She flipped around.

" _Don't_ ," she hissed through clenched teeth, injecting as much venom into the word as she could muster.

Briefly, she caught the look that flitted across Jon's face. It was almost enough to make her feel bad. Almost. After settling Robbie in the back seat, Sansa slid into the driver's seat and pulled away from the curb all the while trying desperately to see through the tears that were clouding her vision.

 

*****

 

Walking through the door of her apartment made Sansa feel somewhat better. At least now she'd be free to break down in the comfort of her own home. After Robbie was safely tucked away in his own bed of course. She tried to make it a point to never let him see her cry if she could help it. She had a feeling that might be a more difficult feat than usual.

Sansa told Robbie to take his back pack to his room and play with his toys for a bit until she got the bath ready for him. As soon as he was out of sight, she put her head in her hands. Could things have gone any more spectacularly awful? And to think she had thought it was going to be such a lovely day. Sansa snorted.

She couldn't get the image of Jon's shocked face out of her mind. There was no way he hadn't realized the truth. Even if by some miracle he didn't, he would eventually. Robbie was the spitting image of Jon with the facial expressions to match. He was bound to have questions.

Robbie would too, eventually. He was shy but that only made him more observant than most children his age. It was only a matter of time, now. Not for the first time, Sansa thought back on the past four years and wondered if she had done the right thing. It had felt like the only option available to her at the time. But now? She just wanted to protect Robbie, but if he had questions, the answers she could give would only hurt and confuse him. 

Then there was Jon. When she decided to move away, she truly thought it would be the best solution for everyone. Jon didn't want this, he never had. Not with her at least. She wasn't so desperate as to tie herself to someone that clearly wanted nothing to do with her. She would have never put Robbie through that kind of ordeal, either.

She had known Jon all her life, he was Robb's very best friend growing up; practically a Stark in his own right. He was honorable, bound by duty just as her father had been. He would have done what he thought was the right thing out of "duty" and "honor," sacrificing happiness in the process. 

For the first time in a very long time, Sansa thought back to those couple of months. Just a matter of months had changed everything, irrevocably. Jon had been staying with the Starks for the holidays. His mother had just passed and his father had never been a fixture in his life. The Starks were the only family he had left.

That first holiday without his mom had been tough on Jon. He hid it well from the others, but Sansa could see through it. By that time she was an expert at hiding things from people that were close to her, thanks to Joffrey.

Sansa liked to think that she and Jon saw something in each other in the beginning; kindred spirits. They were both drowning and had grabbed on to one another, like a life raft, to keep from sinking. But she knew better than that. She had years worth of proof that life wasn't some fairytale and there was no white knight waiting to save the princess.

Jon may not have been like Joffrey or the other boys she knew of, but that didn't mean he saw her as anything other than a pretty little distraction. In the beginning, though, that hadn't mattered to her. Just being around him seemed to help her. 

It started out innocently enough with them sitting on the front porch of the Stark house, usually at night after everyone else had gone to sleep. In the dark, they didn't have to pretend. They could let their guards down and not have to play the roles that others had ascribed to them. No words were exchanged, they just sat quietly drawing strength from each other's presence.

Then came the words, spoken softly, hesitantly under the shade of darkness. Nothing of importance, just trivial small talk. Something to take their minds off their misery. But before long, that too had changed. Two people, who at one time had merely tolerated each other's company, had become unlikely confidants.

Jon started telling Sansa about his mother. About how her death had impacted him and how he felt lost, unsure of what direction his life would take. Sansa responded by confiding in him about Joffrey. How ashamed and embarrassed she had felt when he turned out to be nothing like the golden haired prince she thought him to be. 

It was then that Jon had seen the purple bruise Sansa had tried to conceal around her wrist. She remembered the look in his eye as he stared down at it, and the words that came next.

"Joffrey did that?" he forced through clenched teeth, not taking his eyes from her wrist. She looked down at what her long-sleeved sweatshirt had revealed and quickly tried to cover it. She remained quiet. "Sansa—"

"Jon, please. You can't tell anyone. Not Robb, or my parents, or Arya. Don't tell them. Please," she begged. "It'll only make it worse. It was stupid, okay? He was just angry because I told him I wasn't...wasn't ready to..." she trailed off, looking down. It was quiet for a moment before he spoke again.

"Did he—I mean, he didn't—" he gritted, trying to force the words out. Sansa knew what he was trying to ask.

"No," she whispered. He looked unsure still. "Nothing happened, Jon. It was easy enough to distract him in...other ways," she murmured feeling the shame well up in her again. She thought back on the hesitancy with which she attempted to preform her first blowjob; her shaking hands, Joffrey's snide remarks and the uncomfortable nature of it all.

Sansa couldn't look Jon in the eyes. She didn't want to see the pity they would undoubtedly show for the pathetic, stupid girl she had become. "When did this happen?" he asked her, trying to tone done the burning rage in his voice.

"A few days ago," she answered, still refusing to meet his gaze. Jon stood from the swing they had been sitting on, visibly vibrating with tension. 

"Fucking prick," he snarled. Walking to the edge of the porch he stopped, gazing out at the Stark's yard. He was quiet for so long that Sansa had started to think he didn't have anything else to say. Finally, he let out a breath and turned to face her. Softening his voice, he asked, "No one else knows about this?" Sansa shook her head. Rubbing his hands over his face he walked back to the swing, sat down and turned towards her.

"Look Sansa, I get that you don't want to talk to your family about this and I'll respect that, even if it feels like I'm betraying Robb by keeping it from him, but I can't just sit by and watch that piece of shit hurt you. Robb is my best friend and your family has done so much for me. And—" he broke off, struggling to find the right words. "And you deserve better than Joffrey fucking Baratheon," he finished, turning Joffrey's name into a curse. Sansa looked at him then.

"After what happened, I tried to tell him that I didn't want to see him anymore but he wouldn't listen. He's been texting and calling me nonstop, I finally gave in and turned my phone off. I should have realized it wasn't going to be that easy," she said with a bitter laugh. "He's not just going to give up, Jon."

He stared determinedly into her eyes. "You let me worry about that, okay?" She scanned his face, then gave a small nod. Jon did something then that he had never done before with her. He waited a beat, seemingly deciding, then pulled her to him, wrapping his strong arms around her.

She tensed at first, taken aback by his actions, then relaxed into his chest. She had to admit, it felt good to be held by him. In that moment, Sansa thought maybe he saw her as more than just his best friend's little sister or some pathetic girl who's mess he had to clean up. But it was another thought that startled her; in that moment, she realized that she _wanted_ him to see her as more.

 

Joffrey Baratheon never bothered Sansa again. She didn't know what Jon had said or did to make him stay away, and they never talked about it again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this one is a bit longer! These two just wouldn't shut up lol also there's so much backstory to be told. There's still more backstory coming and questions that will be answered within the next few chapters I promise! Also, I hope the timeframe made sense in this chapter, it was basically Sansa thinking back on her time with Jon so a large portion of it is all coming from her memories. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

It had been a week and Sansa had neither seen nor heard anything from Jon since running into him. Which was fine with her, after all it had been the exact scenario she had been planning on when she left all those years ago.

Besides, it wasn't like he'd had her number or anything. Jon wouldn't have been able to find them even if he'd wanted to. Although she had made peace with this very outcome, Sansa had a niggling in her stomach that felt suspiciously like disappointment.  _He could have found you if he really wanted to._

It didn't matter. Her and Robbie were better off on their own. There was less confusion this way; less hurt and discord. Thankfully, Robbie had seemed to all but ignore what had happened.

Still, it didn't mean that he wouldn't have questions one day but at least it gave Sansa some time to ruminate on a less damaging answer. That was what Sansa continued to tell herself and she planned on sticking to it.

They fell back into the routine of their lives as if nothing had ever happened. On the outside, Sansa seemed as unruffled as she ever had but on the inside, she was falling apart. She had taken to spending a few extra minutes in the shower so that she could break down privately without the worry that she would be seen or overheard by Robbie. Sansa had not been prepared for the barrage of memories and emotions that had been stirred up by the run in with Jon.

They had lain dormant for so long that she had been almost completely debilitated by their sudden resurgence. If it hadn't been for Robbie, Sansa wasn't sure she would have had the strength to keep getting out of bed every morning. Since the day he'd been born, he became her little guardian angel, safeguarding her even if he didn't know it. 

 

*****

 

At long last, Sansa had finished the mountain of paperwork that had been waiting on her desk when she'd trudged into work that morning. Mr. Bolton had explicitly stated that she was to finish it all before she went home for the day. He was in one of those foul moods again.

Looking at the clock, she could feel his low spirits rubbing off on her. She had called Barbrey with the news that she would most definitely be late picking Robbie up. That had been two hours ago. Gathering up her things, Sansa contemplated whether or not she should let her boss know she'd finished and was heading home. She decided against it just in case he took the opportunity to drop another load of work on her. While she walked to her car, she texted Barbrey to let her know she was leaving. On her commute home, her mind wandered to Jon. 

After their talk on the porch that night, things had returned to what Sansa had begun referring to as the "new normal" for them. They continued joining each other for their clandestine meetings on the Stark's porch swing. Sometimes they were silent and other times they had full conversations.

She would have thought that after what had happened, Jon would have avoided her completely or at least started behaving differently towards her. On the contrary, it had a way of linking them together. She felt at ease in his presence, in a way she hadn't felt before. It was like Jon was her protector and even if it was because he felt lonely or because he felt he owed her family something, it still felt good to be protected. 

She tried to pinpoint the exact moment in which things between her and Jon had gone from friendly acquaintances to something more, and kept coming back to the same place. 

_  
_

*****

 

It had been a Friday. The day before Theon Greyjoy threw one of his iconic parties. Sansa hadn't gone more than once or twice, since Robb frequently attended on account of his friendship with the host. He wasn't too keen on having his little sister present when untold debauchery was taking place. She didn't mind on missing out, the few times she had went had been primarily because of her friend Jeyne and her misplaced infatuation with Theon.

Sansa spent a good chunk of the day trying to disregard Jeyne's pleas to accompany her to the gathering. By the time she was ready to meet Jon on the porch for their nightly ritual, she had more or less given in to Jeyne's supplications. It wasn't exactly how she had wanted to spend her Saturday night, but she'd survive. In any case, Sansa's displeasure seemed insignificant when she took her usual seat next to Jon that night. Her heart fluttered when he looked to her and gifted her a sweet smile.   
  
"Hey, you," he greeted her. She felt shy all of a sudden.

"Hi," she squeaked in reply. Her cheeks reddened.

What was wrong with her? This was Jon she was sitting next to. The same Jon she'd been meeting with every night for the past month. The one she had actually started to become sort-of-like friends with. So then why did she unexpectedly feel like a giddy young girl sneaking out to see some boy she was smitten with? Before she could dwell on her odd behavior any longer, he spoke.

"So I finally watched some of that show you were telling me about and you were right, it's hysterical," he acquiesced. She smiled widely.

"See, I told you! I know what I'm talking about when it comes to good television," she said smugly.

Jon laughed, good-naturedly. 

"Not everyone can be a media expert, you know," he joked.

"Oh, I'm well aware," she chuckled. "My dad thought Mean Girls was a documentary about bullying."

Jon looked at her, cluelessly. "It's not?" Sansa couldn't contain her giggles. 

Once it was quiet, she debated on whether or not she should mention the party to him. She knew he had gone to a couple of Theon's parties before even though he wasn't considered the partying type. On the one hand, she didn't want him thinking she was asking if he'd go with her or anything; she knew it wasn't like that between them. But on the other hand, knowing he would be there, even if they couldn't exactly hang out, would really raise her spirits. She decided to go for it. 

"So did you hear about the party Theon's having tomorrow night?"

He gave a short laugh. "Yeah, Robb wouldn't shut up about it. I thought I was going to have to duct tape his mouth shut just so he would stop asking me to go with him."

Sansa bit her lip and looked down. "I know what you mean. Jeyne wouldn't leave me alone about it either. I finally agreed just so she would stop begging."

Jon looked at her in surprise. "You're going?"

"Unfortunately."

He collected himself and replied, "Don't you think it's a bit...I mean aren't you—" He broke off, running his hand through his black curls apprehensively.  
  
With furrowed brows, Sansa asked, "What?"

"Don't you think you're a little...young for Theon's parties?"

"Young?" she scoffed, offended. "Jon I'm only three years younger than you, you know. Not to mention I'm a few months away from being a legal adult." She moved to stand up. "Besides, I've been to Theon's parties before. They're not that bad," she lied. Everyone knew his parties were complete pandemonium. 

Sansa couldn't believe he had basically just called her a child. She was pissed, and if she were being honest with herself, a little hurt that he saw her in that way. _See you stupid girl, he views you as nothing more than an immature little kid._  
  
Before she could make her way into the house, he stopped her with a hand on her arm. "Sansa, wait. I didn't mean that how it sounded."

She paused for a minute. He came to stand in front of her. "Really Sans, I'm sorry, okay?"  
  
She didn't want him to see how much what he said had bothered her, so she nodded and acquiesced to his words. Instead of sitting back on the porch swing, they both stood there, a bit awkwardly. He ran his hand through his hair again, like he always did when he was nervous or agitated. Sansa took pity on him and asked, "So I take it you're not going to the party, then?"

A ghost of a smile appeared on his face. "Standing around watching a bunch of guys get wasted and attempt to hit on random girls isn't exactly my idea of a good time."

Just then, Sansa realized how closely they were standing. The air between them felt heavier somehow, filled with all the things they couldn't or wouldn't say out loud. Looking up through her lashes and into Jon's intense grey eyes, she suddenly felt as if her whole body had been set ablaze. Never had she felt that before; certainly not with Joffrey, not even in the beginning. 

Acting on pure impulse, she took another step toward him, bringing them even closer together and asked in a quiet, breathy voice,"What is your idea of a good time?"

Jon swallowed hard. It looked like he was struggling with something internally before he seemingly came to a decision. Slowly, he started to lower his face to hers, all the while staring intently at her lips. Sansa couldn't remember how to breathe. 

A noise sounded from inside the house, startling them both and causing them to spring apart as fast as humanly possible. Without looking at Jon, Sansa ran quickly into the house, as quietly as she could, and didn't stop until she made it to the safety of her bedroom. Leaning back against her door, waiting for the pounding of her heart to slow, she slid down until she was seated on the floor. One thought kept running through her head. _What the hell just happened?_

 

*****

 

The party was in full swing when Sansa and Jeyne arrived the next night. Theon Greyjoy lived with his father who wasn't around much, which gave him the perfect excuse to throw these excessively rampant parties. Sansa looked around and wondered idly, how he'd get everything cleaned up in time before his father returned.

She and Jeyne had taken to leaning up against the wall, near the entrance to the stairs, surveying the mayhem around them. The music was loud enough to make Sansa's ears feel like they were about to bleed and the heels she wore had become painful after the first forty five minutes. She'd seriously considered telling Jeyne she was sick in order to get out of going but she figured it was better than hiding in her room all night trying to avoid Jon.

She was bound to run into him sooner or later; he had taken up residence in the Stark's guest room, right down the hall from Sansa after all, but if she had to choose between sooner and later to see him again, she would definitely choose later. She wasn't sure she could survive the embarrassment so soon after she had practically thrown herself at him.

 _Speaking of embarrassment._  Sansa scanned the house packed with people, keeping an eye out for her brother. The last thing she needed was to be spotted by Robb and chastised in front of a bunch of drunken college students. Thankfully, there'd been no sign of him yet.

Jeyne caught on to Sansa's agitated state and yelled over to her, "Would you relax? Robb's not gonna be able to spot you with all the people here and besides, even if he did it's not like he's your father!"

She clearly didn't understand how protective older brothers worked.

Before Sansa could reply, Jeyne squealed and turned to her with a look of excitement on her face. "Oh my god, I just saw Theon! He's in the kitchen by the keg!" Sansa looked over to where Jeyne had indicated. She could see Theon talking with two pretty brunette girls, handing them drinks with his signature cocky smile plastered across his face. A flash of auburn curls to the right of Theon caught Sansa's eye.

_Oh, hell._

Robb was playing beer pong, clearly drunk, with his arm slung around a blonde girl. 

Sansa turned away quickly just in case he happened to look her way. Jeyne ran off towards the kitchen proclaiming she was getting them drinks, before Sansa could reach out and stop her. She sighed loudly and turned, keeping a wary eye on Robb. That was when she noticed another person standing just off to the other side of her brother. Someone with raven curls and beautiful grey eyes. Someone who was staring directly at her.

 _For the love of god_. 

Without thinking, Sansa bolted for the front door, pushing her way through the various bodies grinding up against each other. "Shit. Shit, shit, shit," she chanted, desperately trying to get to the door before Robb spotted her or Jon had the chance to get to her.

Just when she had finally started to make some progress, Sansa felt large hands settle on her hips. Startled, she turned around to see a guy with light brown hair and blue eyes grinning at her salaciously. She tried to pull away from him but he only held her tighter. "Where you going gorgeous?" he leered, pulling her up against him.

"Let go!" she shouted at him over the music, trying to wriggle free. Before she had the chance to panic, he was being yanked back by the collar of his shirt. She looked up to see Jon glaring at the guy with a murderous look in his eye. Taking the hint finally, the creep raised his hands in surrender and retreated back into the crowd of people. 

Sansa crossed her arms in front of her protectively and took a deep breath. 

"Are you okay?" he asked her, placing a steadying hand at her elbow. She nodded, not meeting his eyes. "Let's go outside," he suggested, pointing his chin in the direction of the front door. As they turned to make their way outside, Jon put a protective arm around her back, taking care to not actually touch her. Once they were outside and away from the loud booming of music, Sansa turned to him. 

"Did Robb see that I was here?"

"No," he replied, "he's a bit too drunk at the moment to notice much."

She nodded. "Good."

Her cheeks turned scarlet with shame. First she humiliated herself in front of him the night before and now he had needed to save her from another distressing situation. If he didn't think her bothersome before, he certainly did now. She felt like crying.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked again, running his hand through his hair.

"I'm fine, Jon," she answered, barely above a whisper. Clearing her throat, she tried to change the subject. "So, what are you doing here anyways? I thought you said you weren't coming."

He put his hands in his pockets and looked back towards the house. "Yeah, well you know Robb. He can never take no for an answer." Glancing back at her, he continued, "Besides, someone's got to watch out for him."

Somehow, Sansa felt as if he were trying to say something else with that statement.

"I should get back inside. Jeyne's probably wondering where I am," she lied. She knew Jeyne was most likely too busy fawning over Theon right now to even notice her absence but she couldn't stand to endure another minute of the uncomfortable tension between her and Jon. 

"San, wait," he called to her when she started to walk back to the house, "let me drive you home."

She looked to him, feeling a bit of rebelliousness rise up in her. "What if I'm not ready to leave yet?"

"Come on, Sansa. You looked miserable in there. Let me drive you home. Please." He was right, of course. She was miserable, but he didn't need to know that. What's more is he just looked so genuinely concerned in that moment that she had to consent. 

"I have to let Jeyne know before I go. What about Robb? How's he getting home?"

"He's crashing here at Theon's tonight."

"I'll tell Jeyne I'm heading home, then."

Jon nodded. "I'll be right here."

 

 

The ride back to the Stark's house had been silent. The atmosphere surrounding the two of them was still fraught with uneasiness. Sansa kept her eyes glued to her window until he pulled up a little ways back from where the driveway ended. He turned the car off. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him staring intently at her. Sansa's breath hitched. 

"Sansa, about last night—"

"Jon, please. Don't, okay? Let's just forget about it," she begged, feeling mortified. 

He was quiet for a moment. She risked a glance at him. He was still staring fixedly, his eyes burning into her. "What if I can't?"

Sansa nearly gasped. What was he saying? That he wasn't going to let her forget how she'd thrown herself at him?

That  _he_ couldn't forget about it? Or that she'd utterly screwed up whatever it was that they'd had going and now there was no way they could continue on as before? All of those scenarios made Sansa feel incredibly queasy. 

"What I mean is, what if I don't want to? I just—" he broke off, sighing frustratedly. "Sansa, this...thing we have going on, I'm not sure what to make of it anymore. It didn't matter at first because it was innocent but now everything has gotten twisted and I can't make heads or tails of any of it."

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and middle finger. "I like spending time with you San, I really do. But you're my best friend's little sister, for Christ's sake. Your family has done more for me in the past few months than my real family has done for me my whole life. And I know you think it doesn't matter but I am older than you, Sansa, and that does make a difference especially considering the fact that I'm gonna be leaving for college at some point."

Sansa didn't understand. Was he saying he felt something for her? Or was he telling her all the reasons why he couldn't, or didn't, feel anything for her? It felt like someone had cut off her air supply. 

Jon seemed to pick up on her inner turmoil, taking her hands in his. "Breathe, San. Just breathe, sweet girl," he whispered softly, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. She met his eyes. He had the most beautiful eyes, she would never tire of looking into them. 

"I know I should," he murmured, gently cupping her cheek with his hand, "but I don't want to stay away from you."

Her heart pounded at his declaration.

"I don't want you to," she whispered back. The look in his eyes made her squeeze her thighs together tightly. He looked as if he wanted to devour her. 

Soft as can be, he leaned forward and brushed his lips across hers. She could feel the effort he was making to rein in his hunger.

Caught up in the fire he had ignited deep inside her she pressed her lips harder against his. Jon made a noise in the back of his throat that sounded almost like a growl.

He took control of the kiss, gently but determinedly licking into her mouth, consuming her. When he bit down on her lip, she moaned quietly. The sound seemed to increase Jon's fervent need for her. Teeth clashed, lips became swollen, tongues met and tangled together; hands pulled and pushed, exploring every inch of unchartered territory while breathy sighs and husky moans filled the air.

After what seemed like an eternity, they broke apart, resting their foreheads against each other as they both waited for their breathing to calm. In that moment, she wanted nothing more than for Jon Snow to devour her completely.

 

*****

 

Sansa was startled out of her reverie by the sound of her phone announcing a text message. She had just pulled into her parking space in front of her apartment building. She reached down for her phone and read the text on the screen. It was from Barbrey. _The little troublemaker conned me into taking him out for pizza. Will be back soon._ Sansa smiled at Barbrey's claim. As much as she acted the part of the tough older woman, she had a soft spot when it came to Robbie.

Walking through the door, Sansa set her keys and purse on the kitchen counter. She paused, looking around at her small home. The apartment felt empty without Robbie's presence; more dreary and less comforting. She went to boil some water to make her favorite lemon tea with honey; it always helped settle her when she felt anxious.

Rubbing her hand behind her neck, she decided she should take a hot bath to help get rid of the tension that her walk down memory lane had brought on. Just as the water started to boil, she heard a knock at the door. Turning off the burner, Sansa glanced at the clock. That couldn't be Barbrey already, could it? Her plans for a hot bath abandoned, she walked the short distance to the door and unlocked it. As she pulled it open, she registered one thing.

 _Definitely not Barbrey_. 

Sansa gaped in shock at the person standing before her. Heart beating wildly in her chest, she stared into those captivating grey eyes as she'd done so many times before.

Jon Snow stared back, determination written clearly across his face.

"We need to talk."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this took so long! It's also a bit shorter than the others, I didn't really like how the chapter was sounding so I waited a few day and then came back to it to rewrite some parts. I'm still not totally sure but I hope you guys enjoy it anyways! The next chapter will be set in the past developing Jon and Sansa's beginning some more! Enjoy :)

Sansa couldn't believe her eyes. How had Jon found them? It was impossible. He didn’t have an address or a phone number to track them down with, yet here he was. She thought she had been worked up before but it was nowhere close to the anxiety she felt now.

Briefly, she thought about shutting the door in his face but she knew that wouldn't be the end of it. Jon Snow was nothing if not determined. Even if she hadn't known that about him, she could read the resolute look on his face, clear as day. She decided to play dumb.

"Talk about what?" she choked out.

Jon gave her a steely look.  _Worth a try._

With resignation, Sansa stepped aside to let him enter the apartment. She saw him give a cursory glance around the small space which made her feel a little self-conscious. It wasn’t fancy, she knew, but it was home to her and Robbie and they were happy there. _If Jon Snow doesn’t approve then he can just get the hell out._

He was dressed much like he had been when she'd seen him the week before, in well-tailored black slacks and a dark grey dress shirt although, this time he had removed the black suit jacket and grey tie and rolled the sleeves up to his elbows conveying a look of casual sophistication.

Sansa was grateful she hadn't changed from her black pencil skirt and fitted, white button-down into her favorite tattered pajamas. Feeling nauseous and keeping her eyes fixed on the floor, she tried to think of ways to stall the inevitable. Maybe throwing up on his shiny expensive shoes would buy her some time.

Accepting her fate, Sansa crossed her arms as she took a deep breath and looked at Jon. She might as well get it over with.

"How'd you know where I lived?"

"I have a friend who's good with research. He owed me a favor," he said, distractedly. 

"That's not unsettling," she mumbled sarcastically. 

Ignoring her comment, he glanced around, suddenly nervous. “Is…is he here?”

Sansa shook her head. “I had to work late. He’s still with the babysitter.”

Jon nodded in understanding and began to pace around the tiny apartment. He seemed to be trying to find the right words to say. "I've been going over everything in my head for the past week, trying to make sense of it all and I can't." He stopped pacing and turned to her, staring at her earnestly. "Sansa, I need to know...I think I already do but I need to hear it. I need you to say it. I need—" he broke off abruptly, pulling at his curls with his hand. Watching his agitation made Sansa's anxiety increase tenfold. 

"Just ask, Jon," she ordered, heart racing wildly.

He swallowed hard.

"Is he mine?" he asked, quietly.

Sansa closed her eyes briefly. She never thought she would ever have to hear that question coming out of Jon's mouth. As much as she wanted to deny that Robbie was his and have them all continue their lives as if none of this had ever happened, Sansa knew that wasn't possible. Jon knew the truth without having to hear it from her and even if he didn't, she couldn't lie to him. Not after everything they'd been through; not about this. 

She braced herself as she locked eyes with him.

"Yes."

Jon didn't look surprised by her confirmation, not that she was expecting him to. Instead, he continued his pacing. "How?"

She shot him a withering look.

"No, I mean how'd it happen? I thought we were careful, you were getting that depo shot thing, weren't you? Did you miss an appointment or something? Did you—"

Sansa's ire flared at his accusation. "Don't you  _dare_. Don't you dare try to place all the blame on me Jon Snow. If I remember correctly, you were a pretty active participant too. If you were so fucking concerned maybe you should've worn a condom," she seethed.

"I'm not trying to blame anyone, Sansa I'm just trying to understand," he countered, sounding agitated. "Isn't the depo supposed to be like foolproof or something?"

"It's not 100%. Obviously."

Jon rubbed his hands over his face and sighed. When he looked at her again there was a look of betrayal on his face.  _Welcome to the club._

"How could you have kept this from me? For four years. Four fucking years, Sansa! You just up and disappear and then this? Is this why you left? Because you found out you were pregnant?”

It had been a big part of her decision. But it wasn’t the only reason. It was everything that had happened. There was just no way for her to stay. Sansa opened her mouth to answer him but he began hurling questions at her again.

“Why didn’t you come to me, Sansa? I mean, for fuck’s sake didn't you think I deserved to know? In the past four years, you couldn’t have picked up the phone and called me? You couldn’t find a spare minute to tell me I had a fucking son?"

"I tried!" she screamed back, anger and hurt pushing her over the edge.

They stared each other down, both breathing heavily. The tension in the room could be cut with a knife. She hadn’t meant to go off on him but his anger had ignited her own. She knew he had a right to be angry with her but how dare he start throwing accusations around when all she had ever done was try to make things easier for the both of them.

Sansa turned from him quickly, so he wouldn't see the tears that were rapidly pooling in her big blue eyes. Blinking them away, she took a few deep breaths to steady herself and hoped like hell her voice wouldn't waver.

"That day, when I came to see you. I wanted to tell you, I was going to…"

When she turned to face him, the expression on his face was realization. He knew which day she was talking about. A look flashed across his face that almost resembled guilt.

"Afterwards, I sat for hours trying to figure out what to do."

"And this is what you decided?" he asked, gesturing to the small living room they stood in. "To run?"

"Not at first." Just thinking about the other option she had considered and almost gone through with, made Sansa shudder. "I was scared, Jon. I didn't know the first thing about how to raise a baby. I made an appointment at a clinic. I thought it would be the best thing for the both of us. For all of us, really." Sansa remembered the feel of the paper gown rubbing against her bare skin, the coldness of the room and the fluorescent lighting. 

"But I couldn't go through with it. So, I packed everything I could into my car and I drove until I reached the city."

"And never looked back," Jon remarked quietly, with a hard look in his eyes. Sansa didn't have it in her to feel angry again at his accusation. Rehashing the past with him was thoroughly draining. 

"You made it very clear what you wanted that day. I was only trying to do what I thought was best for everyone involved," she uttered. 

Jon walked away from her and sat down on the old sofa she owned. His face fell into his hands.

Glancing at the clock, Sansa felt a jolt of panic. Barbrey would be back soon with Robbie. If he saw Jon here... No, he couldn't. It would be too hard to explain and Sansa wasn't ready for that. It didn't look like Jon was ready either, if it was something he even wanted at all. 

Sansa cleared her throat. "Jon, I know all of this is a lot to take in and everything but Robbie is going to be home soon and I don't think—"

"Robbie?" he whispered, looking up at her. A multitude of emotions could be heard in his voice, the most discernible being a combination of awe and pain. "That's his name? After..."

"Yes," she confirmed, swallowing back the tears that threatened to spill for the second time that night. As close as Sansa was to her older brother, there was one person who rivaled her and that was Jon Snow. He stood up and walked towards her looking like he was trying to stave off tears of his own.  

"I know I probably have no right to ask, but...can I meet him Sansa? Please." Her breath hitched, both at his request and the pleading look on his face.

"Jon—"

"Not tonight, I know. I need time to process and I don't want to ambush him or anything. Just someday soon, please." 

How could she refuse him? Despite everything that had happened, it was never her intention to hurt him or anyone for that matter. Robbie would have questions about his father one day and if she turned Jon away now, Sansa's greatest fear was that eventually her son would grow to hate her for it. An escaping tear rolled down her cheek as she nodded her acceptance. Jon's hand twitched as if he wanted to brush it away like he had done in the past.

They stood facing each other in silence, vibrant blue locked on stormy grey. For a moment, Sansa could almost believe they were just kids again, out on the porch, getting to know each other for the first time. Not these two strangers with so much painful history between them. _Oh Jon, how did we get here?_

An instant later, he cleared his throat and the moment was gone. Sansa looked down towards the floor in embarrassment.

"There was something else I meant to tell you when I came here. I wanted to let you know the interview I had that day I ran into you on the sidewalk, it went well. They offered me the job and I accepted. I'm in the middle of making the move down here."

Sansa was stunned. "You—you're moving here? To the city?"

He nodded, watching her reaction. It made sense, obviously. All of the top law firms were right there in the city and it wasn't like Jon could commute hundreds of miles from home.  _I never thought I would see him again and now we'll be living in the same city._

"Do you have a pen and a piece of paper I can use?" Jon asked her. Still in a daze, she pointed to the kitchen where she kept a pad of post it notes and pens. She heard him rummaging around until he found what he was looking for. Coming back to stand in front of her, he handed her a piece of paper. On it, was a number.

"This is my number,” he said, brow furrowed, “I understand that your first concern has to be him, Sansa. I respect that and I'll wait until you decide it's the right time for us to meet.”

Jon ran his fingers through his raven curls.

“Maybe while you think it over, we could meet for coffee. I would really love for you to tell me about him."

He turned and walked to the door. As he opened it he paused.

"I'm not going anywhere San," he said quietly, grey eyes burning into her. “I’ll wait for your call,” he said, slipping out and closing the door softly behind him. 

Sansa stood alone in the hushed apartment. Silently, the tears she’d been holding in since Jon knocked on her door, fell in rivulets down her cheeks.

 

 

Barbrey had knocked at the door about thirty minutes after Jon had left the apartment. It was just enough time for Sansa to pull herself together. She didn’t want to have to explain to Robbie, or Barbrey for that matter, why she was a sobbing mess. It would kind of defeat the purpose of having Jon leave so urgently if she did.

When she opened the door, Robbie scampered into her arms.

“Mama!”

Sansa smiled at her sons happy, chubby face. Seeing him chased away the sadness, like the sun coming out after a rainy day.

“Hi, baby. Did you have fun today?”

Robbie nodded eagerly while launching into the story of how he spent his day. She listened attentively as he told her all about the finger painting he did at school and how he and Barbrey had so much fun eating pizza and playing games at the pizza arcade.

“He had fun all right. Little rug rat cleaned me out of all my spare change at that damn place,” Barbrey remarked, in her signature raspy voice. Sansa looked up to see Barbrey gazing at Robbie with feigned irritation and laughed.

“Did he now?” she giggled glancing back to Robbie.

“Yeah, and Barbie showed me how to play the pinball game. I really liked that one! Can we go there again soon, mama? Can we?”

“We’ll see. Maybe one day next week, okay? Now thank Barbrey for being so nice and then go get your jammies on. I’ll come in in a minute to help you get ready for bed, alright?”

Robbie nodded and turned to look at the older woman. “Thank you, Barbie! See you tomorrow!”

“See ya, munchkin,” she chuckled as the toddler darted away. “That kid,” Barbrey rasped, shaking her head in mock annoyance.

Sansa laughed. “Thanks for today, Barbrey, really. You’re a life saver.”

“Don’t worry about it. If it ever becomes too much for me to watch a four-year-old then stick me in a nursing home and be done with it,” she joked.

She looked intently at Sansa.

“You okay?” she asked, with a raised eyebrow. Barbrey was an insightful woman, not much got past her.

“Me? Yeah, I’m fine. Just, long day at work you know. Mr. Bolton’s really been cracking the whip lately.” Technically, it wasn’t a lie. It wasn’t the reason she was upset, but Barbrey didn’t need to know that.

She didn’t look fully appeased but seemed to let it go. “Well, don’t let it get to you. You’ll make it through alright.”

Sansa swallowed thickly. Giving a weak smile she said, “I really hope so.”

 

*****

 

After Barbrey had left, Sansa went to tuck Robbie in for the night. Walking into the room, she found him rummaging through the small book shelf in the corner.

“You’re supposed to be in bed, mister,” she reprimanded.

“I was, but then I remembered I have to pick out a book for you to read to me,” he said, rushing over to her with a book clutched in his little hands.

“Not tonight, Robbie. It’s late,” she explained. He looked up at her with big blue eyes, pleading.

“Please, Mama! Just one, I promise. Then I’ll go to bed. Please, please,” he begged her, jumping around. Sansa sighed.

“Just one,” she said sternly, taking the book from him. It was the one about beautiful princesses, brave knights and magic; his favorite. It was Sansa’s favorite too, once.

Robbie scurried into bed, pulling the blanket tight around him. Sansa sat next to him and began to read aloud.

When her son’s eyes began to droop, Sansa closed the book and put it down on the side table next to the bed.

“Can I be a knight one day, mama?” came his small, sleepy voice. She tucked the blankets in around him and brushed the hair back from his forehead.

“You can be whatever your heart desires, my little love,” she whispered. After a moment, Sansa heard Robbie’s soft snores signaling to her that he’d fallen asleep. She sat for a minute and watched his angelic face peeking out from under the blanket he was burrowed in.

A week ago, it had been just the two of them. But now, Jon had found them. He wanted to meet Robbie. He said he would wait for her to decide when that would be but how could she be expected to make a decision like that? It felt like her insides were tied up in knots just thinking about it. Things were going to change, she could feel it. Nothing would be as it had been. Whether it would be a good or bad change though, remained to be seen.

Then there was that moment between her and Jon. It reminded Sansa of what things used to be like between them. When things were fresh and new and it felt like they had endless possibilities ahead of them. That no matter what, they’d always be friends or at the very least always be in each other’s lives. But in the end, she had been wrong; so very, very wrong.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! I hope it being a little longer and having some smut will make up for it! Lol thank you guys for all the comments and kudos I'm so happy people even want to read this story but the fact that you guys leave your thoughts on it makes it 100x better so thank you! Hope you enjoy! :)

Happy couldn’t come close to explaining how Sansa felt climbing into bed the night of Theon’s party. A better description would have been ecstatic or giddy. Jon had kissed her. _Finally_. And it had been the best kiss she’d received by far. She ran her fingers across her bottom lip remembering how it had felt when he had gently bit down on it. _He said he didn’t want to stay away from me._

Thinking about his whispered declaration, a small smile appeared on her face. Maybe they really could be something more than just friends. Maybe he liked her enough to make her his girlfriend. Maybe he’d eventually want to tell Robb and her parents about them. _Maybe, maybe, maybe_.

Too keyed up to fall asleep, Sansa stared at the ceiling contemplating what this would mean for them. Things didn’t feel awkward or uncomfortable afterwards when they had gotten out of his car and made their way to the house. On the contrary, to Sansa, it felt as if something had fallen into place between them. She only hoped Jon felt the same. If he didn’t…Sansa couldn’t think about what it would mean if he didn’t.

Even if that were the case, she didn’t want to lose him as a friend. He had come to mean so much to her in such a short amount of time. Jon had gone from someone she never really paid much attention to, to someone she truly enjoyed being around. If she had to choose between having him as a friend or not having him at all she would choose the former. The way he made her feel…Sansa thought again of their passionate embrace in the car. Just the mere thought of it was enough to set her body blazing.

She wondered if Jon was thinking of their kiss too. He was right down the hall from her, no more than twenty feet away. Was he thinking of her? Of what it all meant for them now, just as she was? She very much hoped so. With those questions still churning in her mind, Sansa curled up under her blanket and drifted into a restless sleep.

 

The next morning, Sansa awoke with the sensation of butterflies filling her stomach. By the end of the day, she would know whether things had truly changed between her and Jon and where they now stood. Or so she hoped.

After making herself presentable, she made her way downstairs to the kitchen. Her mother stood at the counter whisking pancake batter while simultaneously reading from the latest issue of Better Homes and Gardens.

Catelyn Stark looked much the same as her daughter with flaming red hair and startlingly blue eyes, although Sansa’s hair was a shade lighter. Many went so far as to say she was the spitting image of her mother. When she was younger, that had pleased Sansa immensely; back when she thought the only things that mattered were appearance, manners and social standing.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Catelyn smiled, looking up from her magazine. “You’re up later than usual.”

Sansa took a seat at one of the bar stools and glanced at the clock. She had slept in a bit later than normal but that was owing to the fact that she’d been tossing and turning all night consumed with thoughts of a certain someone.

“I had a hard time falling asleep,” she mumbled, picking up a piece of bacon from the plate her mother had placed in front of her.

“Did you and Jeyne have a good time at the movies?”

“Oh, yeah it was fun,” Sansa lied. She’d had to concoct that little fabrication to explain her absence the night before. It wasn’t as if Catelyn was going to let her waltz off to Theon Greyjoy’s party with a wave and a smile. She decided to change the subject. “Where’s dad?”

“He left for work already. He’s been working very hard on this new case,” Catelyn explained. Ned Stark was an attorney. Her father loved his job, loved helping people but it often required long hours and a strenuous workload.

Sansa nodded understandingly.

“And where’s…everybody else?”

She wasn’t particularly concerned with the whereabouts of her siblings. Truthfully, she just wanted to ask where Jon was but asking her mother directly would raise suspicion since, to her family, Jon and Sansa were nothing but strangers inhabiting the same house.

“Arya just left for hockey practice, Rickon’s in his room watching a movie, Bran spent the night at Meera and Jojen’s and Robb, for all intents and purposes, is dead to the world it seems,” she finished with a huff.

Sansa tried to hide her smile by taking a sip of her orange juice. She wasn’t surprised that he was still passed out, Theon’s parties tended to have that effect on him. Before she could comment, her mother continued on in an irritated voice.

“That boy, I swear. I know he’s 21 now and on break from university but you’d think he’d have a little more sense. I understand that he’s home now and wants to have a bit of fun, there’s nothing wrong with that, but it wouldn’t kill him to help out more when he’s here,” she ranted.

“Good luck with that,” Sansa muttered, quietly. She had really only been half-listening, too worried about whether or not Jon was around and if so, when she would eventually run into him. But if that was going to happen it would have already. Usually, he would be downstairs eating breakfast with the other Stark kids. _He’s got better things to do than hang around here waiting for you._

Catelyn continued to bustle around the kitchen still absorbed in her tirade concerning her eldest, oblivious to the nose-dive Sansa’s mood had taken.

“Like earlier, for example. Your father told Robb he was supposed to clean out the shed in the backyard today, but do you think he even budged when I went to wake him up this morning?” she sighed, shaking her head. “Thank heavens for Jon, otherwise it would’ve never gotten done. He’s been working on it all morning, the darling boy.”

Sansa nearly choked on her pancakes.

“Jon? He—he’s here still? In the backyard?”

All through last night and this morning, she could think of nothing but seeing him and now that the situation presented itself, she felt as if she couldn’t go through with it. What if he acted as if nothing had happened? What if he treated her cruelly? He wouldn’t, she knew, but it didn’t stop the anxiety from taking hold of her. She didn’t want to see him yet—couldn’t and especially not where her mother would be within hearing distance.

The woman in question didn’t seem to notice Sansa’s tone or the conflicting emotions warring within her as she responded to her babbling without missing a beat.

“Yes, he’s been out there in the cold since early this morning. He should be nearly finished,” she added, glancing out the kitchen window to the backyard. “It was very sweet of him to offer. I told him it was Robb’s responsibility but he insisted. Your brother could take a page or two out of his book.”

Sansa hummed in agreement as she hastily stood to take her dishes to the sink. She turned to bound up the stairs when Catelyn’s voice stopped her.

“Where are you off to?”

She flipped around to face her mother while trying to come up with an excuse.

“Oh uh, there’s a big sale going on at the mall this weekend and Jeyne’s been bugging me to go shopping with her,” she lied.

“Okay, have fun sweetie. Be careful.”

“I will,” she replied, heading up the stairs to her room.

Sansa knew she was being a coward but she couldn’t stop herself from wanting to get out of there. She thought briefly about actually texting Jeyne but decided against it. No doubt her friend would spend every second prattling on about Theon and the party. Sighing, Sansa grabbed her purse and decided that browsing the bookstores downtown would be the better alternative.

Even if she was running away with her tail between her legs at the moment, she comforted in the thought that she would have the chance to figure things out when she saw Jon for their nightly meetup on the porch—assuming he’d show up, that is.

 

*****

 

By the time Sansa had gotten home, she was exhausted. Hours upon hours had been spent walking through rows of book shelfs and skimming through various novels. Normally, she would have thought of it as a day successfully spent, but she had been unable to focus on much of anything. The pleasant, giddy feeling she had woken up with had evolved into an uneasiness that made her feel more nauseous with each passing hour.

On her way upstairs, she popped her head into her parents’ room to let them know she was home and to say goodnight. Depositing herself on her bed, she stared up at the ceiling, arms spread out on either side of her like wings. She laid there for over twenty minutes, keeping an eye on the clock as she did.

 _This is ridiculous. I’m overreacting, as usual. He’ll either ignore what happened completely or ignore me completely or…_ With a huff, Sansa jumped up from the bed shaking her head at herself. She ran a comb through her hair and took a deep, steadying breath before going downstairs. _I can do this. Jon will be out there waiting for me. Just like usual. Things will be okay._

Softly as possible so as not to wake anyone in the house, she opened the front door and stepped out onto the porch into the darkness. She allowed her eyes to adjust for a moment before scanning the area. Her stomach dropped. She was alone.

 _No big deal. He’s a little late, so what?_ She tried to reason with herself. Just because he wasn’t waiting for her, didn’t mean he wasn’t coming at all. Although, every time they’d had these encounters Jon had always been the first one outside, usually sitting on the steps brooding up at the moon. Trying not to get too worked up about it, Sansa walked to the edge of the porch, curling her arms around herself to ward off the chill.

Did she read things wrong? Maybe she placed more importance on their conversation in the car and the subsequent kiss then Jon did. What if he was just caught up in the moment? He had been drinking that night at Theon’s party but he wasn’t drunk…was he? _Stupid Sansa, when will you realize the only thing worth having from you is what’s between your legs and even then, it’s not enough to make anybody truly want someone like you._ Joffrey’s cruel words accosted her, bringing her insecurities to the surface.

But Jon was not Joffrey. He wouldn’t use her like that—would he? No, no he wouldn’t. _Jon wasn’t like that_ she thought to herself, trying not to let her doubts and insecurities take root. Tears pricked her cerulean eyes. Feeling ignorant and foolish she turned around with the intention to go back to her bed, burrow under her blankets and never surface again.

She was thwarted when she collided with something hard. Glancing upwards and taking a step back she nearly tumbled over the edge of the porch before strong arms encircled her protectively.

“Jon,” she gasped, sounding as if the wind had been knocked out of her. She placed her hands on his chest to steady herself. _He’s here_. “You scared me.”

He was quiet, his face was shrouded in darkness, so she could not see his expression. Under her hand where it lay on his chest she could feel his heart beating, in tune with her own.

“Going somewhere?” he quipped.

Gradually, his arms released her and he took a step back.

“What? No, I was just um—,” Sansa broke off, struggling, “it’s just you weren’t here so… I thought maybe you were busy or forgot or something…”

She trailed off feeling the embarrassment color her cheeks and neck. Lucky for her, it was too dark out for him to notice.

“Not likely,” he murmured.

Sansa bit her lip and looked down. She walked to the other side of the porch where the swing sat. After a beat, he followed and sat down next to her. Something about the energy surrounding the two of them sent tingles down her spine. She wrapped her arms around herself, protectively.

“Are you cold?” he asked. Before she could answer, he had removed his black jacket and placed it over her shoulders. It smelt like him; like leather and the outdoors and a bit of his cologne all rolled together that made it somehow uniquely _Jon_. Sansa took a deep breath, breathing in the distinctive scent.

“Thanks,” she said quietly, giving him a shy smile.

“So how was your day?” he inquired.

“It was good, I guess. I spent it mostly browsing through some bookshops downtown.”

“You did? I thought I heard your mom say you went shopping with Jeyne or something.”

 _Uh oh_.

“Oh, yeah well I was supposed to but she wasn’t feeling well after last night. Apparently, she had a pretty bad hangover,” she laughed nervously, hoping he couldn’t tell she was lying. “Speaking of bad hangovers, I heard Robb’s chore for the day was appointed to you.”

Jon laughed. “Yeah, well I can’t really say I’m surprised, I mean he did manage to down an entire bottle of tequila by himself. Besides, I didn’t mind helping out. It was the least I could do, really.”

“You’re a good friend. It was really sweet of you,” she added hesitantly, gazing up at him through her long lashes.

Jon’s eyes met hers and the air between them shifted. The way he was staring at her made her breathe hitch. She could feel his body tense next to her. One of his hands came up slowly to gently cup her cheek, running his thumb along her bottom lip.

He regarded her for a time before gradually bringing his face closer to hers. _He’s going to kiss me_. She closed her eyes anticipating the soft press of his lips to hers. Moments passed, but still she felt nothing. She opened her eyes to gaze at him in confusion.

The heated look he had given her seconds before had changed into a look of conflicted hesitancy. His hand fell away from her face. Her stomach knotted in worry.

“It’s getting late. We should probably head inside,” he said finally, running his hand through his hair.

After a moment, Sansa nodded trying to keep her face as unreadable as possible.

“Yeah,” she swallowed, feeling utterly dejected, “you’re right. Goodnight, Jon.” She stood up and walked into the house without looking back.

Once she was safely in her room, Sansa closed her eyes and let her emotions wash over her; frustration and sadness being the most prevalent. _I don’t understand what happened. I don’t understand anything._

She felt drained from the emotional rollercoaster of the previous couple days. Jon had wanted to kiss her again. She saw it on his face; the desire, the _hunger_. So, why hadn’t he?

 _He’s playing with you_ came unbidden from the recesses of her mind. Sansa felt nauseous from the thought. Trying to shake away her fears, she began to get ready for bed. She had just changed into her favorite light blue pajama pants and was about to climb into bed when she heard the door open and close behind her with a soft click.

She turned around in bewilderment.

Jon strode toward her, a feral look in his stormy grey eyes.

“Jon, what—” She was silenced when his lips came down hard against hers. His arm went around her waist in a tight embrace while his other arm snaked up her back until his hand was fisted in her long red hair. Sansa gripped his upper arms and after a moment of stunned hesitation, returned his kiss just as ravenously. When he pulled back to stare at her, both of them were panting from the force of the kiss. He was staring at her so intently, holding her so closely, no trace of the indecision she had seen on his face previously.

“What are we doing?” she whispered.

“I don’t know anymore,” he replied.

His answer should have scared her off. She should have pulled away and demanded to know whatever it was that had been going on between them, but she didn’t. She couldn’t summon the strength to pull away from Jon, even if she wanted to. As cliché as it sounded, being in his arms felt like everything was suddenly right with the world.

So instead, she pressed her lips to his wholeheartedly and opened her mouth to him when she felt his tongue swipe across her bottom lip. Impossibly it seemed, his arms constricted further around her. Slowly, he walked her backwards until she bumped into the desk on the other side of her room. Wrapping his hands around the backs of her thighs, he lifted her up to sit on top of it without breaking their kiss.

Sansa slid her hands up to twine around his neck. He positioned himself in between her legs, lips moving in tandem with hers and hands gripping her face earnestly. He broke away to press hot kisses to her jaw and down the length of her neck as his fingers danced around the hem of her thin cotton shirt. His touch was searing, it made her heart thump unevenly and her tummy do somersaults. She could feel a wetness gathering between her thighs.

Lips and tongue grazing at her pulse point, Jon’s hand inched slowly up her side dragging her shirt up with it. Sansa gasped when she felt his thumb run along the underside of her bare breast. Her gasp turned into a breathy sigh when she felt his thumb circle her nipple which had hardened under his touch.

Jon made a strangled noise in the back of his throat in response to the quiet murmurs she emanated. He captured her lips again with a ferocity, biting at her lip. His other hand rested on top of her thigh, squeezing it lightly. Sansa felt as if she were moments away from bursting into flames.

When he finally dragged his lips from hers, they were both panting. He stared at her with unconcealed longing.

“Do you want me to touch you, Sansa?” he asked, his tone making desire pool low in her belly.

She did want him to. Badly. It had never felt like this for her. Granted, her only experience was with Joffrey who’d been a particular brand of cruel, but still, she had begun to think this kind of fervency was just an exaggeration.

It scared her, the way Jon made her feel. He stirred something in her. It felt as if he could ask her for anything in the world and she would willingly offer it to him with both hands. That kind of feeling was dangerous. It was what got her into the situation with Joffrey in the first place. That, and her willingness to overlook the blatant signs.

 _Jon isn’t Joffrey_.

Making her decision, Sansa nodded in answer to his question.

“Say it,” he instructed, nipping gently at the spot beneath her ear.

She bit her lip hard and whispered, “Yes.”

Jon swallowed deeply, seemingly accepting her answer. He leaned down to press his lips against hers again. The hand on her thigh slowly inched further up to where the band of her pajama pants were. His finger slipped beneath the waistband to tease, running the length of her flat tummy back and forth. The motion made the ache between Sansa’s legs intensify sharply.

“Jon,” she moaned, unable to help herself.

He pulled away and made a shushing motion with his finger. “As much as I love the sound of my name on your lips, you’ll have to be quiet. Can you be quiet for me, Sansa?” he cajoled.

She nodded her head ardently. He gave a soft, throaty chuckle that made her shiver. The finger that had been teasing at her waist line dipped below her pants and caressed her over her panties causing her small hands to fist in his black t-shirt.

He rested his forehead against hers as his hand finally slid beneath her panties and began to stroke her. He inhaled sharply when he felt how wet she was. Sansa bit her bottom lip so hard she nearly broke the skin.

“So wet,” he murmured, huskily. His middle finger circled that glorious sweet spot she had occasionally explored when she was alone in her bed, late at night.

With Joffrey, the act had never been pleasurable for her; though, nothing with him had. He would jab and prod with his fingers between her legs until he found what seemed to give her the most discomfort and revel in it. When she would try to push his hands away or tell him he was hurting her he would sneer and say _that’s the point, I want it to hurt._

She quickly realized he would always make it worse for her when she resisted, so she relinquished herself to letting him do what he wanted and then would distract him from taking things any further by using her hands or mouth on him. It had kept him at bay for a while. Thankfully, she’d found the courage to end it with the help of Jon, before things had a chance to get even worse.

 _Jon is not Joffrey_.

Sansa was pulled from her disturbing memories by Jon’s thumb swiping back and forth over her pebbled nipple. They were pressed so close together, foreheads touching, breathing each other in. She could feel the hard outline of him through his tight jeans. She wanted to reach down and grab him, brush her fingers over him but she still felt shy about it all despite what his fingers were currently doing between her legs.

Instead, she grabbed his face and pressed her lips harshly to his. Her fingers tangled in his black curls. He growled in approval, applying a light pressure to her nub making Sansa moan into his mouth.

“Do you want to come, Sansa?” he whispered in her ear.

She was scandalized by Jon’s words. She had never heard him speak like that before. In fact, the only time she’d heard _anyone_ speak like that was when Jeyne had teasingly made her watch porn once on her laptop. She hadn’t cared for it much then but somehow, when Jon said it, it made her extremely aroused.

Hiding her face in the crook of his neck so he wouldn’t see her blush, she nodded. He pulled back to see her face. His expression reminded Sansa of a predator getting ready to devour its prey.

“Do you?” he asked again.

She almost nodded a second time before she caught on. He wanted to hear her say it.

“Please,” she breathed, looking up at him through her lashes.

She saw his eyes darken before he bent down to claim her mouth again. His finger pressed down harder on her nub and started to rub in small, quick circles. She broke away from his kiss to gasp aloud at the feeling. It felt like her body was on fire but it had slowly retreated so the force of it was concentrated in this one spot on her body where Jon was touching her.

He nipped and sucked at her neck as the fire she felt burned hotter and hotter until she was gripping his shoulders, her nails digging ruthlessly into his skin. Her whole body tensed, prepared for the tipping point that was so close, so blissfully close.

“Come, Sansa. Let go,” he growled, pressing down harshly on her nub.

Just like that, she felt her body shatter. Jon brought his lips to hers to smother her cries as he continued to stroke her through her orgasm. Overwhelmed with the sensitivity, she tried to press her thighs together to avoid the continued stimulation Jon was providing. He pulled his hand from between her legs while placing soft, sweet kisses on her jawline.

Sansa collapsed into his chest, breathless. Jon’s arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly to him. She never wanted him to let her go; not now or ever. Content in his protective embrace, her shallow breathing slowly returned to normal.

Sansa became aware of the fact that she could still feel him firmly through his jeans and wondered if she should do something. Did she want to return the favor? Surprisingly, she realized that she did. It had always been a source of shame in her relationship with Joffrey but she didn’t think it would feel like that with Jon. _Jon is not Joffrey_.

Just as she pulled back to gaze up at him, he unwound his arms from around her. She looked at him expectantly. His eyes were still burning when he looked at her but she realized that they had cooled some, like he was holding back suddenly. Sansa’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“What is it?” she asked quietly, hesitantly.

He just shook his head. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured.

Sansa’s heart clenched. Jon had never called her beautiful before. No guy had, actually. She’d been called “hot” or “sexy” before, but not beautiful. Not by anyone who wasn’t related to her, anyways. She gave him a sweet, timid smile.

When his hand rose to brush the backs of his knuckles softly across her cheek, she leaned into his touch.

Jon brought his lips down to brush against hers in a feather light kiss that was much softer than his previous ones.

“Goodnight, sweet girl,” he murmured, taking a step back. Sansa nearly reached for him before she mentally restrained herself.

He slipped out of her room noiselessly, just as he’d entered, and shut the door behind him.

Sansa sat transfixed for a moment, taking in all that had occurred. Later, when she climbed into bed for the night, she fell into a deep and restful sleep, dreaming of stormy grey eyes and feather light kisses.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Sansa meet for coffee in the present, and decide on how to navigate an impossible situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so a few things!
> 
> -First off, sorry this is so late. For some reason I couldn't get the words out for this chapter.
> 
> -This chapter probably should have been broken into two parts but I wanted to give more since I took so long to update! Also the next chapter is going to be going back to the past story line so I kind of wanted to get this part out now so I'm sorry if it feels a little choppy!
> 
> -I've officially plotted this thing out and I know how it's ending and all the major parts so I've changed the tags to reflect that, sorry for any confusion! I'll probably still be adding some minor tags as I go just so I don't spoil every little thing
> 
> -Also, I made a tumblr so follow me if you want! @ throne-of-games

Sansa waited one week before calling the number Jon had written down for her. She spent that week with a lump in her throat and her stomach tied up in knots. She knew that eventually she’d have to swallow her unease and make the call. There was no hiding; Jon knew where to find her if she didn’t contact him at some point.

He said he would be patient and wait for her to decide when he and Robbie could meet but he still wanted to talk with her over coffee. She was caught between feeling grateful that he wasn’t pushing the issue and terrified that she still had to see him again.

It was a difficult situation. Sansa worried for Robbie more than anything. He could be so shy and reserved especially when it came to strangers and that’s who Jon was to him. _Because of me_. Swallowing the modicum of guilt welling up in her, Sansa picked up the phone and started to dial.

The call was brief and to the point. They agreed to meet the following Wednesday to get coffee. Jon had suggested a place that was downtown, close to where they both worked seeing as it would have to occur during their respective lunch breaks.

Sansa glanced at the calendar hanging on her fridge next to Robbie’s drawings and school work. In only three days, she would have to face Jon Snow again. The thought filled her with dread. “You can get through this,” she muttered to herself, “you’ve been through worse.”

 

*****

 

Wednesday came faster than Sansa had anticipated. The suspense reminded her of any time she’d have to give an oral presentation is class; she’d agonize over it until the day arrived and then realize the date had creeped up on her and she wasn’t prepared.

She did her best to concentrate on her work but she couldn’t stop her eyes from flicking to the clock every so often. Only three hours until her lunch break. How quickly three days had turned into three hours. Sansa swallowed nervously and turned her attention back to her computer.

Out of her peripheral vision she could see someone approaching her desk. Glancing up, she was greeted by the sight of a man, waiting patiently for her attention. If Sansa hadn’t known better, she might have found this particular man attractive. He had dark brown hair, a strong jawline and the palest blue eyes she had ever seen. They would have been striking if not for the fact that they made her feel like she was being hunted by a shark. _Just like his father_.

Sansa suppressed a shiver and forced a smile onto her face. “Ramsey. How are you today?”

The man in question flashed her an unnerving smile and leaned against her desk. “Hello, Sansa,” he replied. She always cringed at the way he would say her name; it sounded like a snake hissing. “I’m fantastic, and yourself?”

“Good—busy, but good. What can I do for you?”

“Is my father in?”

Roose rarely left the office. Sansa knew Ramsey was aware of the fact yet he insisted on making small talk with her whenever he came in which, blessedly, was not often.

“He is. Would you like me to let him know you’re here?”

Ramsey flashed a genial smile. “No that’s quite all right, he’s expecting me.”

“Okay,” she replied, turning her attention back to her computer. A moment passed and he had yet to move, still leaning casually against her desk. Her eyes flicked up to see him watching her with a smile still plastered across his face.

“Was there…something else?” Sansa ventured, feeling uneasy under his scrutiny.

“Hmm? Oh no, I was just biding my time. My father’s not too happy with me at the moment. You know how he can be,” he winked.

Sansa nodded and hummed sympathetically, hoping he would get the hint and leave her be.

“But no point putting off the inevitable. I’ll let you get back to work. Have a lovely day, Sansa,” he finished in that strange sing-song voice of his.

“You too,” she managed.

She watched out of the corner of her eye as he walked to his father’s office and disappeared inside. Sansa let out a small sigh of relief and vowed to be in the back when he returned.

 

Before long, it was time for Sansa to begin the short walk to where she would be meeting Jon. Luckily, she knew the place well otherwise her nerves would have made navigation impossible. She’d managed to avoid another run in with Ramsey by pretending to be busy with something in the back of the office when she’d seen him leaving. Though, she still had to endure the ordeal of telling her boss she would be leaving for lunch. Thank the gods, she’d been caught up on her work otherwise he would have never acquiesced.

Sansa tried to let the enjoyable weather relax her on the walk. It was a warm day, but not so stifling that she felt uncomfortable. Trying to enjoy the sun and light breeze, Sansa walked slowly, observing the goings-on around her. The city was alive with noise; people talking as they passed her on the sidewalk, the sounds of traffic and horns blaring angrily. It was nothing like the home she’d known before coming to the city, but it was still oddly comforting in its own way.

As she neared the small café, she felt her heart rate accelerate. When she’d seen Jon last, it had been brief and sudden. There hadn’t been time for her to get worked up but this time she’d had enough days to stew over how uncomfortable things could get. Memories she had desperately tried to keep buried were bound to be unearthed. There were things she didn’t feel comfortable discussing yet, things she would rather forget. Surely, Jon felt the same in that regard. Their conversation would be like tiptoeing through a minefield and yet there was no avoiding it.

Coming to a stop outside the entrance, Sansa wondered if Jon was already inside. Glancing at her phone she noted that she was a little early. Closing her eyes and taking a deep, steadying breath, she tried to focus on the importance of this situation rather than her racing heart. _For Robbie._

The inside of the restaurant was small but charming. Sansa scanned the tables and booths looking for a familiar face, wondering if maybe she was too early. She’d just been about to pick the nearest empty table to sit at when she spotted a head of black curls. Her heart rate kicked into overdrive.

He was sitting with his back to her thankfully, so he couldn’t see her pause. A sudden realization dawned on her that she could turn and walk out of there and he’d never know. She could tell him something had come up at work, that she couldn’t get away. They could reschedule for another time.

But she knew if she didn’t do it, she’d just keep putting it off. She had to do it now. Trying her best to swallow down her panic, she propelled her legs forward.

Jon looked every bit the lawyer dressed in a black suit with a charcoal grey shirt and an array of papers spread out in front of him. Just as she reached the table, he looked up saving her from trying to get his attention via awkward throat clearing.

“Sansa,” he greeted her. “Uh—sorry about all this. I got here early and figured I’d work on some things while I waited,” he explained, gathering the papers and putting them in his briefcase.

“It’s fine.” Sansa’s heart continued to race. She stood awkwardly, watching Jon clear the table.

He motioned with his hand for her to sit. She settled across from him, trying to appear more self-possessed than she felt.

“I ordered while I was waiting,” he gestured apologetically, to the coffee cup in front of him, “I would have ordered for you but I wasn’t sure…”

 _Wasn’t sure what I’d like. Not anymore_.

“I’m okay for right now.”

They lapsed into an uneasy silence. Sansa’s teeth closed around her bottom lip as she racked her brain for something to say. She opened her mouth and started to speak just as Jon did the same.

“Sorry, go on.”

“No, no go ahead,” he insisted.

She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and began again. “I was just going to say you picked a good place. For coffee.”

“I pass it on my way to work and thought it looked like a nice spot,” he shrugged.

“It is. We come for brunch on the weekends sometimes.”

Realizing he might not understand who she meant by “we” Sansa went on to clarify, “Me and Robbie, I mean.”

Jon seemed to tense when he heard Robbie’s name. “That sounds nice.”

Sansa nodded in response as silence descended over them once more. She didn’t know what to say; didn’t even know where to start. It seemed Jon didn’t either. They’d known each other most of their lives, save the last four years and yet when Sansa glanced at the man sitting opposite her, she could see no trace of the Jon she’d known, or rather, thought she’d known. It made her fingers twist and untwist anxiously under the table.

Like a gift from the gods, a young woman with long blonde hair appeared to break the tension and ask Sansa if she’d like to order anything.

“Do you have lemon tea?”

“We have Twinnings Lemon and Ginger herbal tea,” the blonde replied.

“That’d be great. Thanks,” Sansa said, giving a small smile.

The young woman turned to Jon with a warmer smile than the one she’d given Sansa. “And for you? Can I get you another coffee, maybe?”

“No thank you, I’m fine,” Jon answered, glancing briefly at the girl and then settling his gaze on Sansa.

“Let me know if you change your mind,” the blonde said eagerly, turning to leave.

Jon was still looking intently at her, causing her face to heat. “Lemon tea, huh?” he said, finally.

Sansa nodded, meeting his gaze. His face was blank but she thought she saw the corner of his mouth twitch slightly.

“Good to know some things never change.”

 

Gradually, the awkwardness lessened between the two. It hadn’t disappeared entirely, only became more bearable. They were still far from comfortable in each other’s presence but they were both trying, at least. The conversation was kept light with talks of Jon’s move to the city, his new job and such. In turn, he asked Sansa all about her work and advice on how best to settle in to the city. They steered clear of talking about the past and Robbie for the time being. Sansa couldn’t help but feel relieved at Jon’s continued patience.

He seemed content to take things slow, reestablish some kind of familiarity between them before anything else occurred. She was grateful for it but another part of her, a small part, was still wary. When it came to Jon, she had a tendency to throw caution to the wind, dive head first and leave thinking for later. But it wasn’t just her now. She had Robbie to think about. _He comes first, no matter what_. It wasn’t that she thought Jon would actively seek to hurt either her or Robbie, but it was a very precarious situation they had found themselves in and despite what Sansa might want, she had to do what would be best for her son.

Sansa noticed the time when the blonde server brought over the check, fluttering her eyelashes at Jon while she did.

 _Mr. Bolton is going to kill me if I’m late_ , she thought, pulling her wallet from her purse.

Before she could extract her debit card, Jon had already taken out money and handed it to the woman.  

“Jon, you don’t have to do that. Really.”

He shook his head, unfazed. “It’s just coffee, Sansa. I’m the one who asked you here, after all.”

Sansa didn’t like the idea of having someone else pay for her, even if it was just a cup of tea. She wanted to argue further but she really was running late so she acquiesced with a polite “thank you.”

Sansa gathered her purse and stood to leave, Jon following behind her. Once they were outside, they both paused, turning towards each other. She looked down at her feet as Jon ran a hand through his hair. Were they supposed to shake hands now, maybe do one of those halfhearted one-armed hugs? What was the protocol for saying goodbye to the recently reacquainted father of your son?

Jon looked up, catching Sansa’s eyes in a piercing gaze suddenly. “Thank you. For coming. I know this is all kind of…” he trailed off, eyebrows furrowed over dark eyes.

She swallowed, nodding her head. The direction of the conversation was making her palms sweat.

“I know you have to get back to work so I don’t want to keep you, but what do you think of grabbing lunch? Maybe sometime next week?”

Sansa paused, trying to think if she had anything important going on the next week. Coming up empty, she nodded. “Yeah, that would be all right.”

“Okay,” Jon nodded, “I’ll talk to you soon then. Have a good day at work.”

“You too, Jon,” she replied.

Without another word, he turned and walked away in the opposite direction. A sense a déjà vu washed over Sansa while she stood rooted to the spot, watching Jon Snow’s form disappear into the distance.

 

*****

 

Over the next two weeks, Jon and Sansa met twice more. They got lunch as Jon had suggested followed by coffee again a few days later when they both had some free time. Like the first meet, they kept things light, not venturing into any difficult topics. Mostly they talked about their work, how their days were going, how Jon was adjusting to city life.

Thanks to the easy, uncomplicated conversation, Sansa gradually felt herself begin to loosen up in his presence. She still wasn’t exactly comfortable, but when she went to meet him she didn’t feel like fainting from nerves anymore either. _Small victories_.

When she did feel any lingering nervousness, she tried to remind herself that this wasn’t for her but for Robbie. Although, it didn’t help that Sansa still didn’t know what Jon’s intentions were exactly, since they hadn’t talked about anything deeper than irritating bosses and horrendous city drivers. He wanted to meet Robbie sure, but what happened after that? Would that be the end of it, or would he want it to be more than once? A few times a year, once a month, every week? 

If that were the case, they would have to learn how to co-parent. Sansa was used to raising her son her way and if Jon wanted to become permanently involved that could really present a challenge, not only for Robbie but also for herself. And what about everything that had happened between them? Did they sit down, talk about it, work through it? How could they? Or would they sweep it under the rug and pretend it never happened as they had been doing?

As much as Sansa was loathe to admit, maybe the apprehension she felt where Jon was concerned wasn’t entirely for Robbie’s benefit. Of course, she worried for him, had ever since the day he was born, but there was also a part of her—a primal part—that also felt the need to protect herself. It was like getting too close to a fire, the flames could be beautiful but also dangerous and after being burned, most people learned to keep their distance. Jon Snow was wildfire. How would she get through this without going up in flames?

 _I’d do anything to avoid feeling that way again. I have to be stronger, I’m not the same silly girl I was before_. _Jon and I—it’s over and in the past_.

Sansa thought the words to herself, all the while trying to desperately ignore the pang they caused deep in her chest.

As she walked from the office to her car after work, Sansa heard her phone ring where it was buried deep in her purse. Reaching in and extracting it, she read the name on the screen. Before she could think on the almost imperceptible flutter she felt in her stomach, she answered quickly.

“Hello?”

“Sansa.” Jon greeted, “Hey, how are you?”

Hearing his deep, husky voice on the other end of the line, made her breath hitch.

“Hi Jon, I’m good. Just leaving work at the moment, what about you?”

“Good. Listen, I was going through my calendar and it looks like I have some time tomorrow so I was wondering if you’d like to grab lunch.”

“Tomorrow?” Sansa’s eyebrows furrowed. Tomorrow was a Sunday.

“Sorry it’s such short notice,” he said, sounding apologetic, “I understand if you’re busy— “

“No, no it’s just, “Sansa paused, biting her lip, “Robbie doesn’t have school on Sundays…” she trailed off, feeling awkward.

Jon was quiet for a moment. “Oh, well I just figured I’d ask but we can do it some other time. No big deal.”

Sansa thought for a second, then came to a decision. “No, it’s fine. I’ll figure it out.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, it’s no problem.”

“Okay. I was thinking of a place near where we got coffee the first time. I can text you the address, if you want. Does 1:30 work for you?”

“Sure, that sounds great.”

“Perfect. I’ll see you tomorrow then,” he replied.

“See you then.”

The line disconnected and Sansa put her phone back into her purse. She slid into the driver’s seat and started her car, puling from the parking space. _That was stupid of me_. It wasn’t finding someone to watch Robbie that grieved her, she was almost certain Barbrey wouldn’t have a problem with it; she’d babysat for Sansa on the weekends a few times before. No, it was the fact that she had felt almost… _eager_ at the prospect of having lunch with him.

She tried to disregard the feeling and told herself it wasn’t eagerness to see Jon she was feeling, it was an eagerness to talk with him, finally get to the root of this arrangement. Not to mention, it wasn’t like he had a lot of time to spare—he was a lawyer now, his time was limited. Besides, he had to be brimming with impatience by now, although he seemed to be hiding it well. _He isn’t doing this for you, stupid._

No, of course not. This wasn’t two lovers reconnecting after falling out of touch, it was a man who hadn’t known he’d had a son trying to be civil with the girl he’d made a mistake with so many years ago.

 _Mistake. We were a mistake. I was a mistake_.

Sansa violently pushed the thought out of her head as she pulled up in front of her apartment building. She turned the car off and closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the head rest.

With a deep breath, she got out of the car and made her way inside the building. Before ascending the stairs to the second floor where her apartment was, she stopped in front of the door labeled 4A. Knocking lightly, Sansa waited a beat before the door opened. Barbrey gave her a nod in greeting before calling over her shoulder, “Robbie, come on now. Your mom’s here.”

Sansa could hear scurrying from inside before Robbie’s small form dashed into sight.

“Hi, Mama!”

“Hi, baby,” she replied, a smile breaking out across her face at the sight of him, “what have you got all over you?”

Robbie looked down at himself, touching the blue and red splotches that covered his shirt.

“We did finger-painting today at school! I made a picture for you, do you wanna see?” he asked excitedly.

“Of course,” she laughed, “why don’t you go get your back pack and you can show me when we get home, okay?”

He rushed back into the apartment as Sansa turned her attention back to Barbrey.

The older woman gave a throaty chuckle. “He’s been rambling all day about finger-painting and how he couldn’t wait till you got here so he could show you.”

She gave a small laugh, “I’m sure he’s been talking your ear off.”

“You’re not wrong,” Barbrey replied.

Sansa cleared her throat. “So, I kind of have a favor to ask you.” When Barbrey hummed in question, she went on. “Something’s come up for tomorrow but Robbie doesn’t have school so I was wondering—if it’s not too much trouble—if you’d be able to watch him for a bit. It wouldn’t be for long, I have to be there by 1:30 and it shouldn’t be longer than two hours at the most.”

“I don’t mind. Don’t have anything going on tomorrow anyways.”

“Thanks, Barbrey, I really appreciate it,” Sansa smiled.

The woman squinted her eyes at Sansa as if she were trying to discern something. “You going on a date or something?”

Sansa felt her eyes widen. “What? No! No, of course not,” she blurted, a bit harsher than she intended.

Barbrey quirked an eyebrow at her. Luckily, Robbie chose that moment to come running back, backpack dragging behind him.

“I’m ready!”

Taking the back pack from him, Sansa reminded Robbie to thank his babysitter.

“Thanks Barbie, see you later!”

“See ya, kid.”

“Thanks again, Barbrey,” she said, turning to walk away.

“Anytime,” she replied.

Sansa and Robbie made their way up the stairs to the second floor and down the long hallway to their apartment; Robbie babbling away about his day as Sansa listened attentively. Once they were settled inside, she turned towards the four-year-old purposefully. “First things first. You, my little Picasso, need a bath.”

“No, I don’t! I’m not even dirty,” he argued, looking up at her with big blue eyes.

“Oh, you’re not, huh?” she quipped. Robbie shook his head. Sansa fought to keep the smile from her lips as she looked at his innocent little face.

“Robbie, your shirt is filthy. You’re covered in paint. C’mon, let’s get you into the bath.”

He shook his head vigorously. “Just my shirt is dirty, but I can take it off.” He illustrated by pulling at the paint covered garment, “I don’t wanna take a bath.”

Sansa sighed, “Robbie, the longer it takes you to get into the bath, the longer it’s going to be until we have dinner which means by the time were finished it’ll be too late to read you a story. You don’t want that, do you?”

He didn’t answer, choosing to sulk instead. “Fine, I’ll take a stinky bath,” he muttered, pouting adorably.

Smiling, Sansa pulled him to her, placing kisses on both of his chubby cheeks. “That’s my good boy.”

Robbie giggled, pushing at her as she rained down kisses all over his face. “Okay, let’s get you cleaned up,” she said as she hoisted him up on her hip and walked into the bathroom.

“Oh, my picture!”

“Go get it while I start the bath,” she said, setting him down. He darted off into the other room to retrieve it. He returned holding a large piece of construction paper just as Sansa was filling the tub.

“Let’s see,” she smiled, reaching for the picture. There was what looked like a building with many windows or doors drawn onto it, a sun in the top left corner, grass at the bottom and two figures holding hands in the center. “This is the prettiest painting I’ve ever seen.”

Robbie beamed up at her and wormed his way into the circle of her arms, where she sat on the edge of the tub. Turning so that his back was to her, he started pointing out parts of the picture. “This is the sun, and the grass, and this is our building and that’s you and that one’s me.”

“This one’s me? Or this one?” she teased.

“That one!” he replied, giggling. “The one in the dress, silly.”

“Ah, I see,” she smiled.

They were quiet for a moment before Robbie said quietly, “It’s our family.”

Sansa’s chest constricted. Her arms tightened around him, thinking about how things would change soon.

“Yes,” she murmured, “Yes, it is.”

 

 *****

 

Sunday morning started out as usual. Sansa and Robbie both slept in until she finally roused him. She made pancakes while he sat in the small living room watching cartoons. There was some time left until she had to get ready and drop Robbie off. She thought back on what Barbrey had said the day before. _A date_ , she scoffed. She hadn’t been on a date since…she couldn’t remember when.

There had been maybe one or two since Robbie had been born, but they never went much farther than the initial getting to know each other phase. Guys her age didn’t exactly jump at the idea of dating her once they found out she was a single mother. It didn’t bother her much though, Robbie was the only man she needed in her life. _But he won’t be the only one now._

The reflection caused Sansa to glance at the clock from where she sat on the couch; Robbie splayed out across her lap. It was time to get ready for the day. Once they were both dressed and ready, she dropped him off at Barbrey’s apartment, trying to erase his pout with a kiss to his forehead and a promise to be back soon.

On her way to the restaurant, Sansa thought how different this meet with Jon would be. If he didn’t bring up what needed to be said, then the responsibility would fall to her. As much as she’d enjoyed the respite from having to discuss all the gritty details, it was starting to wear on her. She was tired of ignoring the elephant in the room, acting like everything was perfectly normal when it was anything but.

Arriving at the destination, Sansa took a deep breath. _Be smart about this, Sansa. Don’t let him get to you._

With that thought, she headed inside, keeping an eye out for Jon as she did. Immediately, she spotted him sitting at a table next to the window. He didn’t see her as he was gazing out at the people passing back and forth on the sidewalk. When she got close, his head snapped up, grey eyes meeting blue.

His lips curled into a half smile in greeting. Sansa ignored the way the sight made her heart flutter.

“Hi,” she managed, settling into the seat opposite him. “Have you been waiting long?”

He shook his head. “I got here just a few minutes before you did, actually. Have you been here before?”

“I haven’t. I’ve passed by it a few times and always wanted to try it out though.”

“It’s great, I’ve had a few business meetings here before.”

Sansa’s lips curled into a smile. Even though she was aware of what he did it was still so strange to hear about Jon Snow, the brooding boy that used to hang around the Starks’ house, now a successful lawyer.

“Jon Snow, schmoozing important people,” she quipped, “what would my father say?”

He looked down, a small almost bitter smile on his lips. “I’m sure he’d have some words for me.”

Sansa said nothing. Instead she looked out the window, watching the people walk by. What could she say? It was the truth. In fact, Ned Stark would probably have a great deal to say to the both of them. So, they both stayed quiet, the heavy silence filled with ghosts of the past.

After ordering, they ate their food while making small talk about their respective weeks. There was a lull in the conversation after Jon finished telling Sansa briefly about the new case he was working on. She figured since it didn’t look like he was going to bring it up anytime soon, that she’d better take advantage of the opportunity. She steadied herself with a deep breath.

“Jon.”

He looked up, his forehead creased at the change in her tone.

She plowed ahead before her nerves could get the best of her. “I know you’ve been trying to be patient and take things slow with all this and I appreciate it, I really do but—, “she swallowed hard, gnawing at her bottom lip, “I just…I think we need to talk about everything. Before this goes any further. I don’t want there to be any miscommunication between us.” _Not again_. _This time, there’s too much at stake._

Jon was staring at her, his face unreadable. He picked up his glass and took a long drink before setting it back down. “Okay, let’s talk.”

Feeling suddenly off-kilter, Sansa tried to string together her racing thoughts to form a coherent sentence.

“Well I just…I—,” she stopped, not knowing how to say what she wanted to. “I want to know what your intentions are,” she finally forced out.

“My intentions?” he repeated.

She nodded, “I mean, concerning…Robbie.”

Jon sighed, running his fingers through his hair and turning to stare out the window.

For some reason, it made Sansa feel inexplicably nervous. She started to babble, feeling like she needed to clarify.

“I know that you said you wanted to meet him but what then, Jon? Is that it? Do we just go back to our own lives after that? Or are you going to want to see him more than once? And if you do, how often? Monthly, weekly?”

By the time she finished, Sansa felt breathless. Jon was still staring out the window intently, with his storm grey eyes.

“What is it that you want?” She whispered it so low she didn’t think he’d hear her.

He looked away from the window finally, eyes locking on hers. “I told you the night I stopped by your apartment, Sansa. I’m not going anywhere.”

 _You’ve said that before_.

She hadn’t realized she’d said it out loud until she saw the look on Jon’s face. His jaw was clenched so hard, Sansa thought it might break.

After a moment of tense silence, he gritted, “I didn’t—I would never— “

 _Never do to Robbie what he’d done to me_.

Sansa couldn’t bear to hear him say the words so she cut him off before he could go on. “I just meant,” she sighed aloud, “this isn’t just you and me were talking about. There’s another person involved now. I have to— _we_ have to do what’s best for Robbie. He’s what matters now and if you’re only doing this because of some misplaced guilt then just— “

“ _Sansa_ ,” he barked, “I know, okay? I meant what I said.”

This time she was the one to look away. He was staring at her so determinedly, eyes burning into her.

“I’m all in,” he continued, his tone softer than before. Sansa kept her eyes glued to the window. She heard Jon draw in an almost ragged breath.

“What happened, before…back home— “

 _Oh gods_.

Sansa’s eyes snapped back to his. “No, don’t.” She was caught between sounding angry and pleading. Breathing deeply, she went on, “For this to work, we need to focus on Robbie. And I think the best way for us to do that is to just leave the past in the past. We were kids and we both made stupid mistakes, let’s just leave it at that. Okay?”

Jon’s face was hard, as if it were carved of marble. He waited a minute, then gave a sharp nod in response.

Sansa let out a silent sigh of relief, feeling as if she had just dodged a bullet. She’d lived through that pain once but she didn’t think she’d survive having to rehash it all these years later with him. It was better to let sleeping dogs lie.

Making a decision, she said quietly, almost to herself, “You can meet him. There’s really no point in waiting any longer, is there?”

He processed for a moment and then, “When?”

“Monday through Saturday he goes to school and then to the babysitter until I get off of work but Sunday’s are mostly free, we usually do something fun on those days.”

A ghost of a smile appeared on his face. “Stark family fun days.”

Hearing those words again felt like a punch to the stomach, it knocked the air out of Sansa. She clasped her hands together tightly under the table, desperately trying to ignore the lump that had risen in her throat.

She took a gulp of her water, forcing herself to calm, to think of something else, anything else.

Her wish was granted when Jon let out a low chuckle.

“What?”

He glanced up, a wistful smile on his face. “I was just remembering...there was this party one summer that Robb and I went to. One of Theon’s parties, I think. It was that one he invited the whole football team to.”

Sansa remembered. She hadn’t been, but she’d sure heard about it afterwards.

“They were being complete assholes and I remember one of them got so wasted he passed out on a chair up in Theon’s father’s office. Robb ended up duct taping him to it and shaving off one of his eyebrows,” Jon laughed, shaking his head.

Even though hearing her brother’s name made her want to lock herself away and cry until she had no tears left, Sansa couldn’t help but give a soft laugh at the recollection.

“Didn’t he end up blaming it on one of the Kettleback brothers?” she asked with a small smile.

Jon chuckled, “Yeah, he did.” He shook his head, a small smile still playing on his lips.

They were quiet then; Sansa gazed out the window. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Jon watching her.

“I see you in him, you know.” She could hear the question in his silence. “Robbie,” she clarified. “And not just because he looks so much like you. I used to be jealous. He got so much from you and almost nothing from me.” _Except my eyes_.

She didn’t look at him but she could still feel his eyes on her, burning through her.

“I see them too,” she choked. “All of them. I see Robb’s charm and Arya’s spunk, Bran’s cleverness and Rickon’s wild streak. Even my mother’s compassion, and my father’s integrity.”

He swallowed, audibly. “I’m glad. I’m glad he got the best parts of them.”

Sansa bit down hard on her lip to keep it from trembling.

Jon cleared his throat. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t inherit Arya’s penchant for sneaking out. Or Robb’s ability to polish off entire bottles of tequila,” he tried to joke, though it came out hoarse.

Sansa looked at him then; his lips were upturned in a crooked smile. She felt the tension drain out of her as she released a short burst of laughter.

As time wore on, the tension lessened and they returned to talking about safer topics. Jon asked her questions about Robbie. Hesitantly, at first, as if unsure about her reaction and then more confidently as she answered without a second thought.

He asked about his favorite foods, cartoons and toys. In turn, Sansa regaled him with stories of Robbie’s exploits and they laughed over the more humorous ones. More than once, she found herself captivated with the quirk of Jon’s lips or the way his deep grey eyes would watch her, hanging on her every word.

 _So, this is what this feels like_.

Sansa had never had anyone to share these kinds of things with. She didn’t get to gush about the joy she felt seeing Robbie grow up before her very eyes. It had only ever been her, seeing him learn and reach new milestones. His first words, first steps, first day of school had only ever belonged to her. She’d worried that sharing them with Jon would make her feel sad, like she was losing something, but it didn’t. It felt good… _normal_. How it should have been if things had happened differently.

 _It’s our family_ , she heard Robbie’s words again.

 _Our family; Robbie, Jon and I_. Her heart thumped unevenly, the words painting a picture in her head.

When she noticed the look on Jon’s face, she panicked for a moment thinking she had said the words aloud again without realizing. He wasn’t looking at her though, he was looking past her, towards the entrance of the restaurant.

Jon began to stand, his eyes still glued to something behind her. Sansa looked over her shoulder to see what had captured his attention when she saw that it wasn’t a _something_ but a _someone_.

“What—what are you doing here? I thought your flight didn’t get in until tomorrow?”

The woman had long red hair, lighter than Sansa’s. She was slim with a pale complexion and freckles dotting her face and bare arms. She was beautiful.

“I know, but I wanted to surprise you so I caught an earlier flight. I called your office and they said you were out to lunch,” she glanced at Sansa.

Following her gaze, Jon seemed to suddenly remember that Sansa was there, watching the interaction in confusion.

Jon turned back to the woman, clearing his throat. He seemed tense yet resigned, as he prepared to introduce the two. In response, a sense of dread settled in the pit of Sansa’s stomach.

“This is Sansa.” The woman’s eyes lit up in recognition, though she didn’t look surprised. “Sansa, this is Ygritte. My girlfriend.”

 _Girlfriend_. Just like that, the picture she had envisioned in her mind moments before was torn to shreds.

“Sansa,” the woman greeted, “Jon’s told me so much about you. It’s great to finally put a face to the name.” She gazed at Sansa closely, as if she were trying to decipher something.

Breaking out of her stunned silence, manners winning out over her bewilderment, Sansa forced a smile onto her face and stood to greet her. Growing up, Sansa had always been the picture of social decorum. Over the years it had become a sort of defense mechanism, like hiding behind a mask.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she responded, letting the mask slip into place. She kept her eyes firmly on Ygritte, not daring to even glance at Jon.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt, I wouldn’t have come if I’d known Jon had company.” Judging by the look on her face, Sansa found that hard to believe.

“No, not at all.  Actually, I was just about to tell Jon that I needed to get going. I kind of lost track of time,” she laughed, pretending to check the time on her phone. She quickly gathered her purse, pulling out money to deposit on the table. “It was great meeting you Ygritte, I hope you enjoy the city,” she said, smile still firmly in place.

Sansa turned to Jon grudgingly. “Thank you for lunch.” With another brief smile, she turned and left.

She forcibly kept her pace even, though she wanted to run to her car. Her bottom lip trembled; she bit down so hard she could taste blood. She focused on keeping her breathing even. _Almost there._ She could see her car, just a little ways away.

“Sansa!”

Her pace quickened, her heart beating wildly.

“Sansa, wait,” he called, catching up to her.

She stopped, slipping her mask back in place as she turned around to face him. His breathing was shallow, as if he’d ran after her. She looked at him expectantly.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I was going to tell you. I just…wanted to be sure about everything before I said something. With me moving down here and—” he broke off, running his hand through his raven curls.

“Jon, it’s okay. You don’t have to explain. It’s none of my business.”

He didn’t look like he believed her so she changed tack.

“She seems really nice,” she said, managing a smile.

“She is,” he replied, swallowing hard.

Sansa nodded. “Good. I’m glad. I should go, I really need to pick up Robbie. But we’ll set something up soon, okay?”

Jon was quiet, his eyes burning a hole through her. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Sansa turned around, the smile dropping instantly. The closer she got to her car the harder it was to keep her emotions in. She drew in a ragged breath, fumbling with unlocking her car. She slid in and closed the door, laying her head back against the seat. Her eyes squeezed shut, tears leaking from the sides.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid. You’ll never learn, will you?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we have ygritte's role in the story! It's gonna be getting angsty, I hope you guys don't hate me too much lol let me know what you think!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the past, Sansa receives a text that leads to a late night encounter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is ridiculously late, but I do have a genuine excuse lol I was out of the country for a month and it's really hard to try and write on a phone. Also, writer's block is a bitch.
> 
> I made a picset for this chapter! I couldn't help it lol

“Hello? Earth to Sansa!” Jeyne’s irritated voice exclaimed from the other end of the phone. Sansa had been laying on her bed, phone pressed to her ear, listening to Jeyne gossip for the better part of an hour. Her attention had started to drift fifteen minutes in and disappeared completely when she felt her phone vibrate, signaling a text.

One word. A question.

_Tonight?_

“Sorry, what?” she’d stuttered, tearing her eyes away from the screen and pressing the phone back to her ear.

“I said do you want to hang out? You could spend the night, we could rent a movie or something. I’m so bored I could die.”

With Jon’s question still fresh in her mind, she was having a hard time conjuring a response. “Uh, I can’t. My…mom wants me to babysit tomorrow morning, I guess she has some errands to run or something,” she floundered.

“Ugh, what is with you lately? You can hardly ever hangout and when you do you’re always so distracted anyways.”

Sansa felt guilty at her friend’s accusation. Jeyne was right, she had been distracted lately. How could she not when she was getting clandestine texts from the guy down the hall?

“I know. I’m sorry, there’s just been…a lot going on lately. I’ll make it up to you, okay? We can go shopping next weekend or something.”

“Fine,” Jeyne grumbled, “but you’re buying me cheese fries from the food court.”

Sansa laughed. “Deal. I’m going to bed, I have to be up early tomorrow.”

“’Kay, call me tomorrow.”

“I will,” she promised, ending the call.

Opening the text again, Sansa felt excitement bloom in her chest. This wasn’t the first time he’d texted her. Since the night in her room, they’d continued to meet up as usual. Only, they didn’t spend it talking or sitting quietly anymore.

Sansa was sure that first hookup had been a fluke. She thought her fears were confirmed when she’d seen Jon the next morning eating breakfast with the other Stark’s. He didn’t even glance at her. After breakfast, she’d returned to her room, feeling as if she’d had the wind knocked out of her. She had no plans to meet up with him later on that night, she didn’t need to be brushed off again. Then her phone had buzzed and she saw that she had a text from an unknown number.

_Meet me on the porch?_

Sansa had jumped from her bed to go to the window. She tried to peer down to see if she could see him but she didn’t have a clear view. Rooted to the spot, she spent the next ten minutes contemplating what to do. In the end, Sansa quietly made her way down the stairs and out the front door, cursing her weakness all the while.

What she saw made her heart thump unevenly. Jon Snow stood silently—his back to her, hands in his pockets—as he gazed out across the yard. He’d turned when he heard her, giving her that small crooked smile she loved so much.

After that, they’d been unable to keep their hands off each other. Every night after that, too.

Jon would pull her to him, kissing her until they were both breathless. Sometimes he would use his fingers on her but more often than not it didn’t go that far. Sansa still hadn’t touched him, though she could often feel the hard outline of him through his pants.

Jon never pushed the issue.

Breaking out of her reverie, Sansa glanced down at the question Jon had posed to her. Almost half an hour had passed since he’d sent it. With quick fingers, she typed out her reply.

_When?_

His reply came almost immediately after.

_15 minutes?_

Sansa bit back a small smile and waited a few minutes before replying.

_Okay._

Quickly, she ran a brush through her hair and dabbed a small amount of perfume on. Anticipation coiled in her belly at the thought of seeing Jon. He’d been working all day so she hadn’t had even a glimpse of him.

Ever since his mother died, he’d worked a slew of odd jobs. The latest one was helping a friend of his paint and remodel his house.

Giving herself a cursory glance in the mirror, Sansa headed downstairs. Walking out onto the porch she could see Jon’s car parked at the end of the driveway. He wasn’t in the car and she didn’t see him waiting for her on the porch.

“Jon?” she called, softly as she could. She walked towards the side of the house and peered into the darkness. Stepping off the ledge, she walked a few feet.

“Jon,” she whispered, “are you out here?”

Sansa stumbled, tripping over her own feet in the dark. Before she could hit the ground, she felt strong arms encircle her, drawing her up.

“Careful,” he murmured.

Her hands came up to rest on his upper arms. “You scared me.”

His head lowered, nuzzling into her neck. “Sorry.”

Jon seemed to be breathing her in, his hands traveling the length of her body to rest on her hips. Sansa’s grip on his arms tightened when he placed a small kiss beneath her ear.

“Are you ready?” he asked, his voice deep and rough.

“Yeah,” she breathed.

Jon took a step back from her, his fingers trailing down her arm until he reached her hand. He twined their finger’s together and gave them a little tug, “C’mon.”

They walked to the end of the driveway, careful to stay in the cover of darkness in case anyone in the house happened to wake up and look out the window. Sansa didn’t know how they’d be able to explain why her and Jon were sneaking off to his car in the middle of the night.

Jon drove down the block and parked on a side street so they wouldn’t be disturbed. They’d only done this a handful of times but it had only taken once or twice to perfect the process.

When the car was shut off, they sat in silence. The air around them was thick with anticipation, a sort of… _need_ thrumming between them. Sansa turned to Jon to find him already watching her. He raised a hand to slowly brush his fingers over her cheek and down her jaw.

“I missed you today.” His voice was low, as if he were saying it to himself.

The words made Sansa’s heart stutter in her chest. They never said things like that to each other; not once since they started doing—whatever it was that they were doing. She tried not to think too hard on it most of the time, tried not to dwell on Jon’s intentions or where this all was headed but sometimes she couldn’t help herself.

“You did?”

His only response was a nod of the head, his dark eyes flicking down to her lips where his thumb skimmed gently. Sansa’s lips parted as she let out an unsteady breath. Tentatively, her tongue peeked out, grazing the pad of his thumb, followed by a soft press of her lips.

Desire flared in Jon’s grey eyes. His fingers trailed down to her neck as he cupped the back of it, pulling her to him. He kissed her with an urgency that made her gasp, letting him deepen the kiss.

It was needy, demanding, _consuming_. Abruptly, warm hands grasped at her waist and before she could react, she was seated firmly in Jon’s lap, knees straddling his legs. If it had been anyone else, the action might have startled Sansa, made her recoil or freeze up, but this wasn’t just anyone, it was Jon. He had a way with her that she couldn’t imagine having with anyone else. Like he knew her, knew what she wanted even before she did.

The space between them was nonexistent, the small car not suited for what they had in mind. Sansa brought her small hands up to sit on his shoulders while his tangled in her hair. He loved touching her hair.

He gave a soft tug on it, so that the pale expanse of her throat was bared to him. He trailed burning kisses and licks down to her collarbone, where he bit softly before leaving another scorching kiss. Jon’s hands moved down to her splayed thighs, squeezing and kneading at them while his thumbs brushed at the insides.

Sansa’s breath came in short little pants, which she immediately tried to quiet. Instead, she tried to focus on what to do with her own hands. She moved them upwards from where they’d been digging in to his shoulders to his neck, fingers scraping at the nape.

The heat they were generating combined with the heavy breathing had caused the windows of the car to fog up. Anyone passing by would undoubtedly know what was going on inside, though Sansa couldn’t find it in herself to care.

When she and Jon were together like this, an impenetrable bubble surrounded them, encasing them in their own little world. The thought gave her a thrill. For this one moment in time, nothing else mattered except the two of them. She could almost pretend that she was his, if only for a short time.

Sansa gripped him harder, pressing herself closer to him as if it would bind him to her. In her shift, she could feel his arousal pressing against her thigh. His thumbs still drawing patterns on her inner thighs, his mouth still latched to her collarbone, she moved experimentally, brushing herself over the bulge, lightly. Immediately, Jon’s hands tightened on her thighs as a low groan came from deep in his chest.

She bit her lip to keep the smile from spreading across her face. So, he wasn’t immune. It was always her coming apart for him, never the other way around. She wanted to know what it would be like to watch someone fall apart for her, how it would feel to touch someone that didn’t make her skin crawl.

With a nervous flutter in her stomach, Sansa slid her hand down from where it was fisting his hair, down his chest and past his stomach to the outline of his hardness. Hesitantly, she let her hand run over it, caressing him through his jeans. Jon sucked in a sharp breath, his hips instinctively jerking at the feeling.

Hands shaking, Sansa reached for his zipper. She fumbled with it, trying to move quickly before Jon had the chance to stop her. She’d nearly worked it down until strong hands encircled her wrists.

“Sansa.” It sounded like a warning. Rejection surged through her, making her gnaw on the inside of her cheek. She kept her eyes downcast, too embarrassed to meet his gaze.

“I just…I want to touch you.” Her voice sounded small, even to her own ears. Risking a glance, she saw that he had that look again.

Conflicted.

She took that as her cue.

“Please,” she whispered, looking up at him through her lashes. Jon’s eyes didn’t waver from hers, but she could see his resolve start to crumble. His grip on her wrists loosened as he swallowed deeply, adam’s apple bobbing. He nodded his head once, eyes focused on hers.

Now it was Sansa’s turn to feel conflicted. She’d done this many times over with Joffrey, but with Jon it was different. She cared what he thought. What if she embarrassed herself?

With a steadying breath, she pushed the thought out of her head. Pulling his zipper down fully, she reached in and wrapped her fingers around him causing Jon to grunt. She released him from his jeans, noting the wetness that had gathered at the slit at the top. Fleetingly, she realized he was bigger than Joffrey had been, both in length and width.

Teeth closing around her bottom lip, Sansa swiped her thumb along the tip spreading the moisture down around his length. Jon’s fingers dug into the flesh of her thighs as if he were trying to steady himself. Taking it as a sign to continue, she began slowly working her fingers over him, from base to tip, occasionally running her thumb over the head where beads of moisture continued to gather.

Sansa regarded Jon attentively trying to discern the best way to touch him, what made his hips buck and his breath quicken. She tightened her grip on him, increasing her pace fractionally as she lightly traced the vein on the underside of his hardness with her thumb nail until she reached the slit at the head.

“Gods, Sansa,” he groaned.

Jon reached for her, capturing her lips in a bruising kiss. She returned it just as ardently, hands still moving over him without missing a beat.

One hand twisted in her hair, while the other moved from its place on her thigh, to her hip and up her side. She broke the kiss, gasping for air just as Jon’s hand traveled under her sweater, tracing up her back to the clasp of her bra. He looked at her then, eyes intent on her face, asking a silent question. Sansa nodded her assent without hesitation.

Through some maneuvering on both their parts, the bra was eventually discarded. Jon’s hand moved around to the front of her sweater, fingers dancing up the bare skin of her side until stopping just under her breast. When he leaned forward, pressing open-mouthed kisses down her neck as his thumb brushed across her hardening nipple, Sansa’s hand on him faltered.

Spurred on by the breathy sounds coming from her lips, Jon raised her sweater up, exposing her breasts to the cool air and dipped his head, capturing one of her nipples between his lips.

Sansa gasped in surprise which quickly turned into pleasure. She arched her back, pressing herself further into him. Her hand had ceased its movement but was still wrapped firmly around his length.

Jon’s tongue continued to flick against her nipple, making it stiffen further. His hand came up to grasp her other breast, rolling her other nipple between thumb and forefinger.

“Jon,” she moaned, unable to help herself. It seemed her body had a mind of its own as her hips rolled, trying to find relief for the ache that had been building at her core. Unconsciously, Sansa’s grip tightened making Jon pull back and let out a deep growl.

She slid her hand over him again, back and forth from base to tip, increasing the speed. Jon’s hands fell to her hips, grasping so hard she was sure there would be marks the next day. Their eyes locked as Sansa’s hand continued to stroke him faster and with a stronger grip. Jon’s jaw clenched, his whole body grew rigid. His head fell back against the seat as his hips jerked up once more, his release spilling out over her hand.

“Fuck,” he cursed, sounding breathless.

Sansa kept her eyes on him, her hand still wrapped around him, wet with his release. His head was still resting against the back of the seat, eyes closed, drawing in ragged breaths. Her eyes trailed over the features of his face, followed the sharp curve of his jaw down to the hollow of his throat.

 _He’s so beautiful_.

She continued to watch him recover, the man who fell to pieces in her hands.

 _I did that_ , she thought, feeling pleased.

After a moment, Jon lifted his head back up. His breathing had calmed as he opened up the center console and retrieved some napkins he had stashed there. He reached for Sansa’s hand, gently cleaning the remnants of his seed from her and then from himself.

Though Jon seemed to be sated, Sansa’s core still burned hot with desire. The ache caused her to shift, desperately seeking friction. She was fully preparing herself to beg until Jon noticed her distress.

He leaned forward then, the ghost of a smile on his face, to nip and suck at the soft skin of her neck. His hands were settled on her hips, where he squeezed her lightly before he dragged his fingers to where she was aching.

Sansa’s breath caught in her throat when she felt him caress her through her thin leggings. She brought her arms up to wrap around his neck. Her fingers dug in to his shoulders when his hand slipped into the material, deft fingers trailing through her wetness.

She couldn’t help but roll her hips into his touch, eliciting a guttural sound from Jon. His thumb skimmed over her most sensitive spot as he circled her opening with his index finger. Sansa could cry from the euphoria of finally having his hands on her, the pleasure his fingers were wringing from her body.

The breathy sounds escaping her lips were amplified in the small space but she couldn’t smother them. Jon’s fingers were working skillfully between her legs, every caress making the ache intensify, unbearably. He brushed his lips over hers, soft as silk, but it wasn’t enough. She needed… _something_.

A whine slipped from her, as she pressed herself against Jon’s fingers hoping he would increase the pressure or speed or _something_.

“What do you want, Sansa? Tell me,” he murmured huskily, pulling back to see her face.

 _I don’t know_ , she wanted to cry. She felt feverish, desperate. She didn’t know how to answer his question because she didn’t really know the answer herself.

"Tell me what you need."

She answered with the first word that came to mind. “More,” she breathed.

He didn’t respond, didn’t nod or give any indication that he’d even heard her but his thumb started rubbing firm small circles where before it had only lightly stroked.

The feeling was intense, fierce. Sansa dropped her head, her forehead resting against Jon’s. Their breathing was harsh, Sansa’s coming out in soft pants and gasps while Jon’s was low and husky. His eyes were open, watching raptly as profound pleasure twisted her features.

His palm replaced his thumb, rubbing her clit while he gently slid his middle finger into her. Sansa let out a low moan, her hips rolling against his hand like a wolf in heat.

“That’s it, Sansa,” he encouraged her.

She was already so close, but when he spoke those words in that rough voice of his, she felt her entire body tense. Her hand shot out, clutching at the car door, head falling back as the waves of pleasure rolled through her.

She sat astride Jon, gasping and shaking for what felt like hours until her body calmed. Her breathing was harsh as if she’d just finished running laps around the block. When she glanced down at him, she saw that Jon was watching her with a sort of burning captivation. It made her feel exposed.

Sansa slumped into him, hiding her face in the crook of his neck. He wrapped his arms around her, petting her hair and pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. She loved this part of being with him. When they were sated, Jon would hold her until they had caught their breath, caressing her face and hair or pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. It made her feel like she mattered, like she was something to be treasured, something precious to him.

But it didn’t last. It never did.

All too soon, Jon was pulling away from her. She did her best to keep the disappointment off her face as she tried to navigate herself back to the passenger seat as gracefully as was possible.

Sansa adjusted her clothes as Jon did the same. She pretended not to notice when she saw him wipe the remnants of her wetness off on his jeans, though her face burned hot with embarrassment.

Once they were settled, Jon drove them back to the Starks’, stopping the car at the end of the driveway.

She hated this part. When they were done and the fervor had subsided, Jon would transform back into the brooding, detached figure she’d been so accustomed to once before. It made her feel incredibly lonely.

Sansa stared out the still-foggy window. The quiet of the car was quickly becoming oppressive. Almost unconsciously, she brought her hand up to the window, carving out a small heart in the corner. She watched as the fog slowly started to clear, the perspiration gathering and dripping down like raindrops in a storm. It made the heart she’d drawn look like it was bleeding.

 _Fitting_ , she thought.

Grudgingly, she turned to Jon. He wasn’t looking at her. He was staring out the windshield, not paying attention to her. It was like she wasn’t even there.

 _An island unto himself once more_.

She glanced back down, studying her hands knotted together in her lap. She swallowed the lump obstructing her throat. “Are you going to stay tonight?” Her voice was quiet, small; asking a question she likely already knew the answer to.

He still didn’t look at her. His fingers rubbed along his jaw reflexively, letting out a deep sigh.  

“Not tonight,” he said, eyes finally meeting hers. She nodded, biting at the inside of her cheek. She was expecting it, but it didn’t make it any easier. It had become almost the norm for them now; more often than not, after they were together Jon wouldn’t stay at the Starks’ afterwards, only returning well into the next day.

His home was with the Starks’ now yet every time he was with Sansa, he’d elect to stay gods-knew-where rather than in the same house with her. Like he couldn’t bear to be reminded of what they’d done, couldn’t stand to be anywhere near her afterwards. It caused physical pain to radiate throughout Sansa’s chest.

 _He’s ashamed of you_.

“I’ll see you, then,” she forced out.

He nodded, keeping his eyes on her as she gathered her things and opened the car door. She afforded herself one more glance at him before she shut it and turned to walk up the driveway to the house.

With every step, Sansa could feel her heart sinking further. Entering the house as quietly as she could, she crept towards the window, peeking out into the night. Jon was still parked at the end of the driveway. He always waited until she got inside before driving off.

But he wasn’t leaving. Ten minutes passed, yet the car didn’t move. She wondered if maybe he had changed his mind, if he was going to stay after all.

_What are you doing Jon?_

She had half a mind to go back out there and ask him exactly that. She’d just about decided to before the small grey car slowly started pulling away from the curb. She felt foolish when disappointment flooded her at the sight.

Scoffing bitterly at herself, she thought back on the past hour. So many emotions packed into such a small sliver of time. The highest highs followed by the lowest lows, like a drug. That’s exactly what Jon Snow was to her. A bad drug habit she couldn’t seem to kick.

_Why do I keep doing this to myself?_

Sansa stood at the window, long after Jon’s car had disappeared. As she stood there, a voice sounded in her head, sneering angry words that had been hurled at her what seemed like a lifetime ago.

_It’s all you’re good for._

_It’s all you’re good for._

_It’s all you’re good for._


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In present time, Robbie and Sansa prepare for Jon's arrival and a friend proposes an idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of Robbie and Sansa bonding in this chapter! Once again, thanks for all the kudos and comments I really really appreciate every single one! And thank you guys for being so patient with me, hope you enjoy :)

 

 

The curving road was lined on both sides with trees as tall as buildings. It was so dark Sansa couldn’t see ten feet in front of her. There were no street lamps, no light source of any kind except the glare from the moon. The dark felt like an entity in itself, swallowing everything within reach. It made her quicken her pace.

Her breath was visible, materializing as big puffs of white. She hadn’t realized how cold she was until that moment, arms wrapping around herself to ward off the chill. In a sudden wave of paranoia, Sansa glanced behind her; she could see nothing but darkness. Panic and fear welled in her chest making it difficult to breathe. _I don’t like this, I don’t like this, I don’t like this._

Just before she broke into an all-out sprint, she saw something that had relief rolling over her. A bit of light was visible up ahead and it looked like the trees were thinning out. A grateful sigh escaped her as she moved closer to the source. She never thought she’d be so happy to see a street lamp.

As she came into the light, she took the opportunity to survey her surroundings. On the opposite side of the road there was a sidewalk and further ahead it looked like there might be some houses, though she couldn’t see any in her immediate area.

She stood under the florescent glare for a few minutes, thankful for the respite from the dark. Sansa was loath to leave the reassurance the light provided but knew it was unavoidable. Reluctantly, she crossed the street to the sidewalk, walking until the light from the street lamp slowly faded into darkness. Glancing around, an unusual feeling came over her.

_Why does it feel like I know this place?_

Her footsteps slowed as a sense of foreboding overcame her. Snow flurries swirled down around her, covering everything in a light dusting of white. There was a sense of familiarity yet she couldn’t quite place it; like when you couldn’t name a word that was on the tip of your tongue.

That was when she saw it. At first glance, it looked like nothing more than an old abandoned house. But looks could be deceiving, Sansa knew that better than anyone. It was in ruins, the paint chipped and peeling. Most of the windows were broken or boarded up and the grass and bushes had grown so wild they nearly engulfed the front porch.

For anyone not actively seeking it, it would have been easy to overlook, as dilapidated as it was. But not for Sansa. She would know it anywhere, in any condition.

It was where she grew up.

The sight of it had her frozen in place. A coldness crept down her spine but it wasn’t from the snow still swirling down around her. It was the kind of cold that got under your skin and seeped into your bones, rendering warmth into a mere memory.

It wasn’t the state of disrepair that had her choking on her tears, it was the fact that the house was so glaringly empty. Her breath came in tiny gasps, like the cold had manifested hands and had an icy grip on her throat.

She looked around, desperate to see somebody, anybody. There was no one. Not a soul as far as the eye could see. She was completely and utterly alone.

_Alone._

The word echoed in her head, a silent reminder of everything she had lost.

“No,” she choked out, stumbling backwards. Her palms felt slick with sweat, despite the intense cold. She rubbed them against her jeans, as she tried to scramble away from the vacant house. It felt like a rope was tied around her waist, pulling her closer despite her attempts to retreat. 

Her hands were wet, sticky. She glanced down, examining them in the moonlight. Her stomach lurched.

Deep red coated her hands. It dripped from her fingers and splattered onto the snow below in thick drops. The red stood out vividly against the pure white, making it all the more gruesome.

Sansa tried, frantically, to wipe it off but it was futile. It stuck to her hands like tar, not even smudging in her vain attempts. Tears rolled down her cheeks, blurring her vision.

“No,” she sobbed, shaking her head. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block it all out.

_This isn’t real. Wake up, please, wake up, wake up._

Sansa lurched upwards, her eyes snapping open to see the ceiling of her room above her. She was gasping, sucking in ragged breath after breath. Bringing her hands close to her face she inspected them to find them clean, no trace of blood whatsoever. The tears from her nightmare trailed down her cheeks to her neck, making her feel wet and sticky. She scrubbed at them, angry at herself for their emergence.

She hadn’t had a nightmare in years; the worst of them had occurred when she was pregnant. Taking deep breaths, she willed her racing heart to slow. Sansa turned her head, glancing at the alarm clock on her nightstand. The glaring red told her it was a little after one in the morning.

_Great_ , she thought, sitting up with a sigh. She rubbed at her eyes again, to clear away some of the blurriness. When her vision refocused, she nearly jumped out of her skin at the figure standing in the doorway. A very small figure.

“Robbie,” she breathed. He was watching her quietly, holding one of his tattered stuffed animals. “What are you doing out of bed?”

“You were crying,” he whispered.

Sansa swallowed. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, not really knowing what she was apologizing for. “I’m okay, everything’s okay.”

He didn’t move. He stared at her, his wide blue eyes filled with an awareness far beyond his years.

_My sweet, clever boy._

She lifted the covers for him. Robbie didn’t hesitate, climbing up onto her bed and burrowing into the blankets next to her. He turned on his side, facing her, his stuffed bear clutched tightly to his chest.

It was silent for a moment before he whispered, “Did you have a bad dream?”

She didn’t answer at first. She’d always tried her best to shelter him from the scarier things in life, even if it meant suffering in silence. But she didn’t want to lie to him, either.

Turning on her side to face him, she nodded.

“What about?”

She brushed the curls back from his forehead. “Nothing you need to worry yourself with.”

Sansa closed her eyes, hoping he would take her cue and fall back asleep. She felt guilty enough for waking him up, he didn't need to be burdened with her demons too.

“I could sing you a song. Like you do when I have bad dreams, sometimes,” he said quietly.

She opened her eyes and saw him looking at her with such hope that she had to blink back tears. She gave him a small smile.

“I’d like that.”

He sang her the same song she would sing to him, to calm him down after a nightmare.

“ _If you be my star,_

_I’ll be your sky_

_You can hide underneath me_

_and come out at night._

_When I turn jet black,_

_and you show off your light._

_I live to let you shine,_

_I live to let you shine._ ”

Most of the words were jumbled, some missing all together but he sang it until the very end.

“Thank you for that, my little love,” she whispered into his hair. “I feel much better now.”

He didn’t respond, only lifted his hand to pull at a lock of her hair, twirling it around his small fingers like he did sometimes when he was tired.

“Sleep now, it’s late.”

“Okay, mama.”

Sansa laid there with Robbie in her arms, listening as his breathing evened out and gave way to soft snores. She knew she should take her own advice and try to get some sleep. But at that moment she couldn’t help lay awake, feeling so intensely grateful for being blessed with her son. He was, as always, her saving grace; banishing the darkness from her life with his brilliant rays of light.

With Robbie’s sleepy murmurs acting as a balm to her frayed nerves, she let her eyes close, drifting into a deep and dreamless sleep.

 

*****

 

When Sansa awoke the next morning, she felt bone-tired before even leaving her bed. The nightmare had mentally and emotionally drained her. Robbie, on the other hand, had far too much energy for someone who had been woken up in the middle of the night. What she wouldn’t give for a fraction of that energy. Truth be told, she was going to need it.

It had been almost two weeks since Jon had dropped the girlfriend bomb on her. After the initial shock had passed she’d been angry.

But not with Jon.

What reason would she have to be angry with him? That he’d moved on? That he hadn't told her sooner? No. The more Sansa thought about it, the more she realized it wasn’t Jon she was angry with. It was herself for having such a reaction in the first place.

It had been years since she’d seen him and yet he still affected her like she was that same naive girl. It was as if nothing had changed and that infuriated her. Sansa decided to do what she was best at; she put her feelings in a little box and stored it away in the furthest corner of her mind.

When she felt like she had a solid grip on herself, she’d called him. She could tell he’d been surprised to hear from her. Before he had a chance to bring up what had happened, Sansa interjected, asking if he’d like to set a day and time to see Robbie.

That had effectively erased any other thought from Jon’s mind.

They decided on the following Sunday; Jon would come by her apartment in the late afternoon. Sansa thought it would be easier for Robbie if it took place somewhere he was comfortable. Thankfully, Jon agreed.

All things considered, it was a relatively painless conversation. Sansa had actually been pleased with herself, with her ability to not let it affect her. That was until she hung up with him and noticed the white-knuckled grip she’d had on the back of the kitchen chair.

At least she’d been the only one around to see that slight slip-up. _I won’t have that luxury today_ , she thought. The notion made her whole body tense, like a bow string pulled tight. She rolled her shoulders in an attempt to relieve the strain as she stood in her small kitchen, brewing a cup of lemon tea.

The quiet apartment was disrupted by a burst of high-pitched giggles, immediately bringing a smile to Sansa’s face. She walked to the living room with her steaming cup and sat on the sofa, tucking her legs underneath her. Robbie was sitting on the floor in front of the television laughing uproariously at the cartoons on the screen. The sound was infectious.

Sansa sipped on her tea while her son giggled nonstop. By the time the show was over, he had moved from his place on the floor to her lap, draping himself over her like a blanket.

“Okay, up,” she said, patting him on the butt so she could stand. “Time to get dressed.”

Robbie climbed off her lap and looked up at her. “What are we doing today, mama?”

“Well, first we need to go to the grocery store to pick up a few things and then later on we have a visitor coming over.”

His head tilted to the side, brows furrowed. “What kind of visitor? Barbie?”

Sansa stood, picking him up and walking down the hall to his bedroom. “No, it’s not Barbrey. It’s someone I used to know a long time ago.”

“Who?”

She set him down in the middle of the room and turned to the small dresser in the corner, taking out a clean outfit for the day.

“A…friend,” she sighed, testing the word out.

It felt like a lie but she didn’t know what else to tell him. Somehow, “your father whom you’ve never met, and didn’t know existed," didn’t exactly seem like the right answer either. Motioning for him to lift his arms, she pulled the pajama top over his head and tugged the clean shirt on in its place.

“But why? Why are they coming?” he asked.

“Because—” she broke off, looking for the right words. “Because we haven’t seen each other in a while and he…would like to meet you.”

He fell quiet after that, forehead wrinkled in confusion. Against her better judgement she inquired tentatively, “Is that all right?” 

The only answer she received was the small shrug of his shoulders.

When she finished getting him dressed, she gazed at him, trying to gauge his mood. He wasn’t looking at her and his bottom lip jutted out.

“Hey,” she cajoled, taking hold of his small hands in hers. He looked up at her, thick black lashes framing his blue eyes. “He’s nice. I think you’re going to really like him.” She gave him her most reassuring smile, even as anxiety coiled in her belly. “It’ll be okay, I promise.”

She pressed her lips to his forehead and pulled back to see apprehension still clouding his face.

“Trust me?”

He nodded.

“What was that?” Sansa asked, giving his hands a playful shake. The flickers of a smile hovered around his lips. “I can’t hear you,” she sing-songed. He was smiling now but his eyes remained glued to the floor.

_Stubborn, just like his father._

“All right, that’s it.” She grabbed at his sides, squeezing and poking until he was a jumble of flailing limbs, giggling uncontrollably in her lap. Sansa was laughing too, hard enough that she could feel a stitch forming in her side.

“That’s better,” she smiled. Robbie grinned and reached up to pull her face down towards his, rubbing his nose against hers.

“What do you say we get our shoes on and get ready to go, hmm?”

“Can we get pop tarts?” he asked, enthusiastically.

Sansa laughed. “Sure.”

 

*****

 

They took their time grocery shopping. Jon wouldn’t be showing up for a while yet, so Sansa didn’t feel the need to rush. She’d been good about staying calm all day but she could feel the anxiety lurking, creeping around her like a poisonous fog. If she gave it the slightest leeway, she knew it would pull her under.

She couldn’t let that happen though, not today. She had to keep it together; for Robbie, especially. He hadn’t been very keen on the idea of a stranger coming to meet him, understandably.

_It was never supposed to be like this._

But it was and the only thing left for her to do was to help Robbie get through this mess as best she could. It wouldn’t have been so bad if he wasn’t so skittish around strangers. He warmed up to people eventually but knowing this would be causing undue stress to him made her heart ache. Unfortunately, there was no way around it.

Sansa was just grateful it was only one person he had to cope with this time, unlike the preschool fiasco they’d gone through before.

_At least as far as I know_ , she thought suddenly, the memory of Ygritte clouding her mind. Surely, Jon wouldn’t think that was a good idea though… They hadn’t discussed it over the phone, as the topic never came up but Sansa had made it clear that Robbie needed to feel comfortable, that was the whole point of having Jon come to the apartment instead of them meeting at a park or something. He couldn’t think “comfortable” meant adding another stranger to the mix, could he?

Her pulse raced at the thought.

_Oh gods, I hope not_.

“Sansa!” Someone called out, interrupting her wave of panic. She came to a stop on the sidewalk outside her apartment building and turned towards the voice. The two men that approached her were dressed casually, jeans smudged in a way that indicated a day filled with manual labor. She pushed down her panic and flashed a smile at her two newest neighbors.

“Hey guys,” Loras grinned, wiggling his fingers at a shy Robbie in greeting. “Shopping, were we?”

“Yeah, just a few things,” she said, glancing down at the bag that Loras had gestured to. “Looks like you guys have been busy. How’s the move going?”

“Ugh, it’s torturous,” he said in a way that had Renly rolling his eyes beside him.

“He hardly did anything, I’m the one that did all the heavy lifting.”

“Yeah, but I supervised,” Loras countered making both Sansa and Renly laugh.

A small tug on her hand made her glance down. Big blue eyes looked up at her and then flicked over to the rows of flowers near the entrance to the building. “What do you want, baby?”

He looked back up at her and then glanced to the men standing in front of them who both flashed adoring smiles at him.

“Can I go smell the flowers?” he whispered so quietly, Sansa almost couldn’t hear him.

“All right, but don’t move from that spot, okay? Stay where I can see you.” He nodded and she smiled as he dashed away.

“Gods you make some adorable babies, Sansa,” Loras remarked. “Care to donate an egg or two?”

“Christ Lor, at least buy the girl a drink first,” Renly laughed.

Sansa couldn’t help but giggle at the pair’s antics. It felt good to laugh and joke with people that were born in the same decade as her. Making friends or even friendly acquaintances wasn’t as easy as it had once been. But it was hard _not_ to become friends with these two, especially Loras.

She’d met him the week before when she had quite literally ran into him on the way out of the building, knocking over the box he had been carrying inside. After apologizing profusely and helping to pick up his scattered belongings, they started talking and in mere minutes Loras had her in stitches from laughing so hard. From there, he’d introduced her to his boyfriend Renly, who had turned out to be just as charming and the rest had been history.

“Speaking of drinks, why don’t you come by? I’ll whip up some margaritas and we could _supervise_ while this one does all the dirty work,” he jested, elbowing  Renly in the side.

“It’s like two in the afternoon, a bit early for drinks don’t you think?” Renly said, eyebrow quirked.

“Of course not, it’s never too early to day drink. Besides it’s five o’clock somewhere and all that.”

Renly shook his head exasperatedly, but Sansa could see the love in his eyes when he looked at Loras. It made a faint notion of loneliness stir in her.

“That sounds great, but I’m actually expecting someone,” she apologized.

“You are, are you?” Loras questioned, eyebrows wagging suggestively.

Her eyes widened slightly at his implication. “Oh no, nothing like that. It’s a friend,” she explained, quickly.

“A friend or a _friend_?”

“No, just a friend.” She tried laughing it off, though it came out sounding more nervous than she’d intended.

“Hmm, so you’re not dating anyone then?” Loras asked.

“No,” Sansa replied, glancing towards where Robbie was inspecting the flowers, “definitely not.”

“Well, how would you feel about the prospect of maybe being set up on a blind date?”

Sansa tore her eyes from Robbie. “What? I don’t think—“

“I know a blind date sounds sketchy and not at all appealing really, but I swear I have the perfect guy in mind,” Loras insisted.

Renly glanced at him in confusion. “Who?” Loras raised his eyebrows and shot a telling look back.

“Oh... _Oh_ ,” he replied, glancing back at Sansa. “You know, I think you’re right. That would be perfect, I can totally see it.”

“It’s nice of you guys to offer and everything but I’m not…,” she trailed off, her face heating. “I mean, most guys my age aren’t interested in dating a single mom and the ones that are, tend to be expecting something more…casual.”

“But that’s why this guy is perfect!” Loras exclaimed. “I swear to you, he is the complete opposite of guys like that.”

“I have to agree with him on this one,” Renly threw in.

Sansa wasn’t convinced. “Even if that were true, with me having Robbie and everything I don’t know if I want or am even ready for— “

“Sanny, sweetheart,” Loras interrupted her, “you’re a mom, not a nun.”

She opened her mouth to respond but he cut her off again. “No one said you had to get married, but it won’t kill you to go on one date.”

“I don’t know…,” she muttered, doubtfully.

“Just think about it, okay?”

“He means that in the nicest, most overbearing way possible. He’s really excited about the prospect of becoming a matchmaker.”

“ _No_ ,” Loras huffed and casted a disgruntled look towards Renly. “Well, yes but also because I know the potential for something great when I see it. Promise me you’ll at least think about it, all right? I think you two would hit it off.”

“I’ll think about it,” Sansa acquiesced, glancing down at the time on her phone. “I should go, he’s going to be here soon. I’ll see you guys later.”

“Have fun on your friendly non-date date!” Loras called out behind her.

Sansa’s cheeks flushed as she shook her head, walking towards Robbie. He looked up at her when she neared.

“I like this one. Can I keep it?” he asked, pointing at a light blue flower. It looked like some strain of rose. _Winter roses_. It looked similar enough, though she knew winter roses were native to the north. They didn’t grow in the city, but this one seemed to be as close as she’d ever come to finding the real thing again.

“These flowers aren’t meant to be picked.”

“Why not?”

“Well, they don’t belong to us. They’re supposed to make the building look better,” she explained.

Robbie frowned as he gazed at the flower wistfully. Sansa had to refrain from laughing; he’d certainly perfected his pout it seemed.

“Just this once, okay?” She leaned down to pluck the flower. Twirling the stem between her fingers, she breathed in the sweet scent. It was a pale imitation of the ones she loved so much but reminiscent all the same. _It smells like home_. It was familiar, comforting and tinged with bitterness.

She handed it to Robbie, a sad smile on her face. He brought it to his nose, inhaling the scent.

“Ready?” she asked, holding out her hand to him.

He kept one hand wrapped around the stem of the flower, the other reached up to grasp Sansa’s tightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is curious about the song Robbie sings to Sansa, here's the link for it! It was my favorite years ago and I heard it recently and I had to put it in because it just reminded me so much of their relationship, it's a great song check it out if you're interested!
> 
> https://youtu.be/aRPyoPGO2vo


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the past, Sansa ends up in an unexpected situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'm the worst, I know. I hate that this update took so long. I blame writer's block and crippling self doubt. And the holidays. But on the upside this is the longest chapter to date, so I hope that makes up for it at least a little bit. This chapter is a bit of a turning point in Jon and Sansa's relationship, which will extend into the chapter after the next. Enjoy! :)

 

Sansa had no idea what in the hell she was doing. It seemed like all she could do lately was make bad decisions. This particular misadventure, she chalked up to her unfortunate inability to say no. _And that damn picture_.

Frankly, it was her own fault. She should have known something was up when Jeyne asked her to sleep over on the same night that Theon was throwing his 21st birthday party. But she’d just wanted one night without guys making her life more complicated than it needed to be.

Well, one guy really.

Then Jeyne had called, selling her on a girl’s night with the holy trinity— junk food, rom-coms and a bottle of rosé. Needless to say, Sansa had jumped at the opportunity.

Only when she’d arrived, dressed in raggedy old pajamas no less, did she realize Jeyne had something very different in mind. When she opened the door to her friend’s bedroom, it’d looked like a bomb had been detonated.

“What—” Sansa had started, taking in the clothes strewn around the room and the various shoes being flung about by an exuberant Jeyne.

“There you are! Took you long enough, you drive like my grandma,” she muttered, pulling Sansa into the room and shutting the door behind her.

“What’s going on? I thought we were having a girl’s night.” She picked up a stray shoe that had been tossed on the bed, moving it aside to sit.

Jeyne came to stand in front of her, hands on her hips. “Yeah, about that. See, I knew if I told you that our ‘girl’s night’ was actually more of a…birthday celebration for a certain hot guy I’ve had a crush on since _forever_ , you’d bail. So, I told a teensy little lie to get you here.”

“Jeyne,” she protested, starting to stand. Jeyne’s hands came down on her shoulders, halting her.

“Before you get all whiny on me, let me just say—you’ve been pretty MIA lately, so you kind of already owe me.”

Sansa couldn’t deny she had a point. Sneaking around with your older brother’s best friend didn’t exactly leave a lot of time for girl talk.

“And this is Theon Greyjoy we’re talking about! His parties are epic and this is his 21st birthday, you _know_ it’s going to be like, the party that defines our adolescence! We can’t miss it,” she insisted, giving Sansa’s shoulders a shake.

Sansa shot her friend a less than enthused look. Jeyne snatched her phone from the bedside table, shoving it into Sansa’s face.

She took the phone from Jeyne’s hand. “What exactly am I supposed to do with this?”

“Just scroll through my Instagram. If I can’t convince you, the photographic evidence will.”

Sansa scrolled down Jeyne’s feed reluctantly, seeing picture after picture of bleary eyed twenty-somethings, all in various states of intoxication. “Even if I wanted to, I’m in my pajamas. You told me it was a girl’s night remember?”

“I guess it’s a good thing we’re pretty close in size then, huh?” Jeyne replied, still pulling clothes from her closet.

Sansa was about to respond with another excuse before something caught her eye. It was a group photo taken at the party and posted by the birthday boy himself.

Theon stood in the middle, two blonde girls hanging off either side of him. Robb was on the left, his arm slung across the shoulders of another girl. Then there was the person standing on the far right, somber grey eyes and black curls standing out to her like a beacon.

But that wasn’t what made her pause. It wasn’t surprising that Jon was there. He wasn’t as close with Theon as Robb was, but they were still friends.

What left Sansa feeling like she’d been doused with a bucket of ice water was the attractive figure leaning into him. The girl with long black hair, a pretty smile and tanned arms wrapped around Jon’s waist.

Jeyne babbled on, but Sansa couldn’t hear her. All she could do was stare intently at the picture, her mind racing.

Who was she?

Was he hooking up with her, too?

Were there others?

She could be one of many, for all Sansa knew. It wasn’t like they ever talked about things like that. They weren’t dating and Jon wasn’t obligated to her in any way. He could do whatever he wanted.

 _Looks like he has been_.

The iciness she had felt a moment prior was quickly melting away, leaving a flare of white-hot anger in its place. She had never understood the term “green-eyed monster” before. It seemed silly to ascribe such power to a feeling as inconsequential as jealousy.

Now, it didn’t feel so silly. Sansa could feel it brewing inside her, like a raging storm waiting to break free. Jon didn’t belong to her. He could do what he wanted.

But then, so could she.

With blood roaring in her ears, Sansa stood and turned to her friend. “Okay, I’m in.” Jeyne squealed, clapping her hands together. Sansa headed towards the door before being yanked back.

“Slow down, crazy. You’re in pajamas, remember?”

She looked down at her baggy clothes in realization. “Oh, right.”

“Don’t worry, I have the perfect outfit for you. It’s always been a little long on me but I kept it around for circumstances such as these.” She smiled, turning to dig through the pile of clothes on her bed and whirled around holding a simple black dress.

Sansa took it from her, eyeing it dubiously. “It looks…kind of short.”

“Just try it on. Unless you want to risk trying to sneak something from your house,” she challenged, eyebrow quirked.

Reluctantly, Sansa pulled off her t-shirt and sweatpants and pulled the dress on in their place.

“Put these on, too,” Jeyne instructed excitedly, pushing thigh-high black boots into her arms. Sansa eyed the shoes hesitantly, but tugged them into place as well.

When she turned around to look at herself in the full-length mirror, her eyes widened. The dress was long-sleeved and scoop necked, not allowing for any cleavage but it was tight fitting, hugging Sansa’s curves in all the right places. It stopped about mid-thigh, leaving a few inches of skin exposed between the edge of the dress and the top of the black high-heeled boots.

“I can’t wear this,” she choked out.

“What do you mean? You look hot! That dress fits you like a glove.”

“Jeyne, I can’t. It’s too…” Sansa trailed off, shaking her head.

“Sansa, come on,” she groaned. “What is with you? You used to love getting dressed up and going out! Lately, I’m lucky if I can get you to go shopping with me. It’s like you’re a totally different person. I mean, ever since—” She broke off abruptly, biting her lip.

Her friend’s sudden outburst and the obvious unease emanating from her had Sansa on edge. “Ever since what?” She bit out, harsher than intended.

Jeyne huffed, rolling her eyes. “Well, ever since you and Joff broke up, you’ve been so…I don’t know, _off_. I know it was hard but you’ve got to get over it at some point. There are hundreds of guys out there that would kill to date you, Sans. You just have to stop moping around long enough to find one.”

Sansa had to stop herself from physically flinching when Jeyne mentioned Joffrey. It wasn’t her fault—not really. Everyone had thought they were some kind of golden couple, her best friend included. The only person who knew the truth was Jon and even that was by accident.

She glanced at her reflection in the mirror, eyes taking in the dress and boots. Jeyne was right. It was exactly the kind of outfit she would have loved wearing before. She would have enjoyed the attention it garnered, the eyes that would have followed her in it.

But that was the old Sansa. Pre-Joffrey Sansa.

Now, all she wanted was to blend into the scenery; live life on the sidelines instead of under a spotlight.

“I know I probably sound like a raging bitch,” Jeyne continued, “but I just want you to be yourself again. I miss my best friend.”

Sansa gave her a small smile, knowing her heart was in the right place. “I know. Maybe you’re right. Maybe I just need to try and get back to my old self.”

What was that saying about faking it?

If anyone could pretend, it was her. She could play at being the old Sansa, at least for tonight.

 

 *****

 

 _What a stupid idea_.

The panic rushed over Sansa the second she and Jeyne walked through the door. The gazes she felt roving over her body didn’t help much either. She tugged at the bottom of her dress self-consciously, trying to shield herself.

The party was even wilder than usual, though knowing Theon, she’d expect nothing less for his 21st. There was a DJ set up against the wall in the den, the rest of the space taken up by the gyrating bodies, moving together like one entity. The kitchen had multiple kegs and dozens of liquor bottles scattered about. They’d even set up strobe lights over the designated dance floor.

“Told you this would be worth it!” Jeyne called out, over the music. “Let’s get drinks!” She grabbed Sansa’s hand, pulling her towards the kitchen. They weaved their way through the throng of bodies with very limited space.

Jeyne grabbed two red cups and inspected the bottles lined up on the kitchen counter next to a large container of what looked like some kind of mixer filled with pieces of fruit. People crowded around the kitchen getting drinks for themselves and others. Sansa watched a guy wearing a football jersey pour equal amounts of the juice and liquor into his cup and leave the kitchen.

Jeyne filled their cups with the drink from the container. When she reached for a bottle of clear liquor with a fancy name, Sansa stopped her. “I don’t really want to drink.”

“Suit yourself,” Jeyne replied, pouring the alcohol into her own cup and handing the other to Sansa. She wrapped her hands around the flimsy plastic, gnawing on the inside of her cheek.

“Hey, loosen up. It’s a party, remember? We’re supposed to be having fun!”

Sansa forced a smile, trying to summon the composure her old self would have had. Yet, all she could think about was how idiotic this situation was. _All because of that stupid picture_.

“Uh oh.” Jeyne elbowed her, nodding in the opposite direction. Sansa scanned the area before she saw what had caught her friend’s attention. Theon and Robb came stumbling into the kitchen, laughing and shoving at each other. They looked wasted.

 _Oh, this is not good_.

She’d just about decided to duck behind the counter and save herself the grief before her brother’s eyes landed on her and widened. His expression would have been comical if she hadn’t been dreading his reaction.

“Oh, no,” he blurted, shaking his head. “No, no, no. No way.” Robb came to a stop in front of her, grabbing her as if he meant to drag her from the house. “What the hell do you think you’re doing here?”

“Calm down, okay? I’ve been to Theon’s parties before. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal? Are you joking? Take a look around, Sansa. There’s no way in hell I’m gonna just let my little sister roam around in this chaos. Especially in that,” he groaned, gesturing at her outfit. “Where the hell did I leave my sweatshirt?”

“I think you look great, Sans,” Theon cut in, signature smirk in place, “very… _developed_.”

Robb shoved him, roughly. “Shut the hell up, Greyjoy. I don’t care if it’s your birthday, I’ll still kick your ass.” Theon laughed, unruffled by the threat and offered Sansa a wink.

“I’m not twelve years old, Robb,” she bit out, ignoring Theon’s comment though it made her cheeks blaze.

“I don’t care how old you are, you’re still my baby sister and there are too many drunken assholes here tonight. Maybe if it was another night and I was sober enough to watch over you but it isn’t and I most definitely, am not.”

“I don’t need anybody to watch over me.” She tried to sound sure of herself but her brother’s concern only added to her anxiousness. “It’s not like I’m alone, I have Jeyne with me. We’ll be fine.”

Robb scoffed. “Yeah. Sure. How exactly do you expect to be ‘fine’ if you can’t even walk a straight line?” He grabbed the red solo cup she’d been clutching and brought it to his nose.

Sansa rolled her eyes. “There’s no alcohol in it, I wasn’t going to drink tonight. I’m not that naïve, Robb.”

He took a sip and made a face. “No alcohol, my ass. Gods. Where’d you get this?”

“Over there,” she pointed, brows furrowed. “I heard some guy say it was juice. I didn’t put any alcohol in it, I swear.”

They all looked to where she had indicated. Theon roared with laughter while Robb rolled his eyes. “Yeah, _jungle_ juice Sans.”

Her forehead wrinkled in confusion as she glanced at Jeyne who only shrugged. Wiping his eyes as he continued to laugh, Theon leaned towards them. “Here’s a tip for you girls. When you go off to college, don’t drink the Kool-Aid.”

“That isn’t even…” Robb trailed off, shaking his head. “Whatever.” He turned back to Sansa, looking much too inebriated to be dealing with any of this. “Please tell me you didn’t drink any. That stuff has about seven different types of liquor in it.”

“I didn’t,” she said, eyeing the cup in her brother’s hands. After a beat, Sansa grabbed Jeyne’s cup, passing it to Robb as well.

“Hey! I was going to drink that.”

“Jeyne, that stuff would have given you alcohol poisoning.” She looked about to protest before Sansa saw the proverbial lightbulb go off in her head.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. I’ll just stick with beer. But I always have _such_ a hard time working the keg,” she eyed Theon, pointedly. Unfortunately for her, Theon wasn’t the most perceptive even on his best days and judging by the glassy eyes and slight sway, tonight was anything but.

She seemed to give up playing coy in favor of transparency. “Do you think you could help me with that birthday boy?”

A look of surprise flitted across Theon’s face before it morphed back into cockiness. “My pleasure,” he smirked, leading her to the keg.

Sansa repressed a sigh. _That’ll probably be the last I see of her tonight._

“Well, as fun as this has been, I think it’s about time to get you home now,” Robb declared.

“Robb, I already told you I’m not leaving so just drop it.” Sansa ground out, her irritation flaring. “It’s a party for god sakes not a war zone. Stop acting like you can protect me from everything. You can’t, alright?”

 _It’s too late for that_ , her mind whispered.  

His eyebrows pulled together, eyes clearing momentarily. Despite her obvious annoyance with him, he flashed a small smile. “Maybe not. But that won’t stop me from trying.”

Looking at the sincere expression on her brother’s face, Sansa felt her annoyance start to melt away. As hard as she tried, she could never stay angry with him for long.

“So, you’re not budging, huh? Determined to give your poor big brother a massive coronary and deprive all these nice girls of my unbelievable charm and good looks?” He quipped, a look of resignation on his face.

Sansa looked down, the ghost of a smile hovering on her lips. Truthfully, she knew she’d be much happier back at Jeyne’s enjoying some lemon cakes and a cheesy romantic comedy but while she might have been compelled to go to the party for one reason, she couldn’t deny it wasn’t the only thing keeping her there anymore.

When she’d promised Jeyne that she would try to be more like her old self it wasn’t solely for her friend’s benefit. She knew what happened with Joffrey had changed her, but she hated to think that because of him she would never be like she was before. Her porcelain skin might be cracked, but she refused to believe she was broken.

She glanced back up at her brother. “I’m staying. At least for a little while.” She offered a smile and continued in mock seriousness. “And if you don’t leave me alone about it, I’ll be forced to tell mom it wasn’t Rickon who spilt spaghetti sauce all over her perfect white carpet.”

Robb’s eyes narrowed but his smile grew wider. “Well played.”

“I learned from the best.”

“Can’t argue with that,” he laughed. He shook his head, scrubbing his hand down his face. “Alright, so you’re staying. Fine. But you have to promise me a few things first.”

Sansa sighed. “Go on.”

“No drinking, Sans. Please.” Robb insisted. “If anyone offers you anything, don’t take it. And for the love of all that’s holy, no guys, okay? If anyone bothers you or you want to go home, come and find me.”

She raised an eyebrow at his last statement as he swayed slightly.

Robb contemplated her dubious expression. “Shit. Okay, you’re right.” He looked around, scanning the rest of the kitchen. “Where the hell did Theon go?” He muttered. He turned back to her, his eyes zeroing in on something behind her. “Ah, perfect timing,” he smiled.

Sansa looked over her shoulder, fully expecting to see Theon and Jeyne probably locked together in some abhorrent display of drunken antics. In actuality, it was so much worse. She turned back around so quickly, she nearly gave herself whiplash.

Robb called out to the newcomer while she stood rooted to the spot, trying her best to school her face into a mask of indifference. She could feel when he neared, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling.

His arm brushed against hers as he passed, making his way over to Robb. She made a conscious effort to avoid looking directly at him. She needed to keep a clear head, especially in the presence of her brother.

“Where you been, man? I haven’t seen you since Theon took body shots off that blonde.” Robb said, clapping his friend on the shoulder.

“I was just out back getting some air,” he replied, his voice doing nothing to calm the rapid beating of Sansa’s heart.

“Of course.” Robb chuckled. “So, seeing as I’m pretty much out of commission for the night, if you have any problems just come find him, alright?”

 _Not a chance in hell_ , Sansa thought.

Robb leaned toward her, seriously despite the bleariness of his eyes, “And remember,” he started before raising his voice to shout, “IF ANYBODY EVEN THINKS ABOUT TOUCHING MY LITTLE SISTER, THEY’LL HAVE TO SURGICALLY REMOVE MY FOOT FROM THEIR— “

“Robb!” She hissed, shoving at his shoulder. She glanced around, mortified, to see some of the partygoers shooting them looks.

Her brother laughed, ignoring her glare. “Sorry Sans, couldn’t help it. Be good, okay?” He dropped a kiss to the top of her head before turning to the silent figure next to him. “Keep an eye on her, Snow.”

Sansa could see him staring at her out of the corner of her eye but stubbornly refused to meet his gaze. Until he spoke.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured as Robb walked away, “I plan on it.”

She couldn’t help it. Her eyes met his.

 _Damn him_. Why did he have to look so good? She couldn’t keep her eyes from taking him in. He wore a black, long-sleeve shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing the prominent veins that extended down his forearms. Not to mention, his grey jeans were tight enough to make Sansa flush.

His eyebrows pulled together while he stared at her like one would a complicated puzzle they were trying to figure out.

“What are you doing here?”

The agonizing sight of long tanned arms wrapped around Jon’s waist flashed in her mind, abruptly _._ She tried her hardest not to glare at him as she felt her pain and rage reignite. She was caught between wanting to cry and wanting to slap him.

Instead, she squared her shoulders, the anger making her feel brave. “I could ask you the same question, Mr. Parties-Aren’t-Really-My-Thing.”

He frowned, but didn’t reply.

The longer Sansa stood there, the angrier she felt. It burned in her stomach like acid. Before she consciously decided to, she was striding past him, her shoulder brushing his.

Jon’s hand shot out, wrapping around her wrist lightly. “Where are you going?” His eyes flicked up, scanning the people as if he were concerned someone would notice them. It only served to enrage her further. _Probably worried his girlfriend will see_.

Sansa wrenched herself out of his grasp. She looked to the mass of bodies dancing in the next room. Something about the scene seemed very alluring all of a sudden. She turned back to him answering in a sickly-sweet tone. “To have fun. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do at a party?”

Turning her back on him, she strode into the den, only stopping when she reached the edge of the crowd. She took a deep breath and before she had a moment to reconsider, plunged ahead. She pushed her way through the bodies, keyed up on anger and adrenaline, stopping when she got to the center. The bass was so intense she could feel it reverberating in her chest.

The lights above flashed making it difficult for her to distinguish one person from another. Even though she couldn’t see him, she knew Jon was watching her. She could feel his eyes searing into her from somewhere in the shadows.

Sansa let her eyes slide closed.

She tilted her head up towards the lights. The music pulsed like a living thing. She let it flow through her, clearing her mind of everything. Slowly, she started to move to the beat. The bodies closed in around her but she didn’t care.

She blocked everything out, letting the music transport her back to a time when things made sense and nothing hurt. The only thing she allowed herself to focus on was the rhythm and the way it coursed through her body.

For the first time in a long time she danced. Song after song, she danced until she lost track of time entirely; until her lungs burned and her feet ached and when she felt a warm body emerge behind her, _against_ her, she didn’t stop.

She opened her eyes, searching, searching, searching until she found him. Storm grey eyes burned into her from across the darkened room sending a shiver through her despite the heat. His eyes consumed her, making her heart stutter and her breath hitch. The intensity of his gaze was enough to make everything else fall away.

Still, she didn’t stop. She moved against the nameless person behind her, reaching to pull him closer without breaking eye contact with the figure across the room.

 _How does it feel?_ She wanted to shout.

The music raged and the lights above continued to flash while sweat beaded on her brow and the back of her neck grew damp. Her breathing became harsher as she moved, feeling large, clammy hands sliding down her hips.

Suddenly, the music was too loud and the lights too bright and the intensity in Jon’s eyes that had given her such a sense of dark satisfaction was now too much for her to bear.

The hands of her dance partner slithered dangerously close to the hem of her short dress causing her sudden panic to escalate. The dance floor was quickly becoming claustrophobic, making it difficult for her to breathe.

_I have to get out of here._

Sansa tore her gaze from Jon’s, and began to disentangle herself from the arms that had quickly become like vines wrapped around her waist. She pushed her way through the swarm of people, feeling more panicky with each step she took.

People shot her irritated glances but she didn’t care. She was past the point of being polite. She squeezed between people, catching a few elbows in the side, until finally she broke free.

She drew in a ragged breath. It felt like coming up for air after drowning. Without thinking, she headed for the stairs to the second floor, bypassing the rope hanging across the entrance displaying a note threatening all manner of unspeakable things to anyone that crossed it.

Sansa hopped over it, taking the stairs two at a time and coming upon a long hallway with multiple closed doors. Luckily, she’d been to a handful of Theon’s parties before—thanks to Jeyne’s irrational infatuation—so she knew which door led to the bathroom.

She came to the end of the hallway and veered left. She locked the door behind her, forehead resting against it with a light thump. Taking slow, deep breaths, she willed herself to calm. When she felt like she could breathe a bit easier she bent over the sink, drinking down the cool water from the running faucet. She straightened, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

Sansa studied her reflection. Her eyes were glassy, her long red hair tousled and untamed, face and neck flushed a deep pink.

_Just can’t help humiliating yourself when it comes to him, can you?_

She glared at the pathetic girl in the mirror, blinking away the angry tears that threatened to fall. How stupid she’d been to believe everything could be fixed by a night of pretending.

She thought she could waltz into the party looking and acting like her old self and everything would go back to the way it used to be. Jon would see her and suddenly realize she’s someone he would be proud to be seen with.

There’d be no more hiding, no more secrecy. They’d be happy. And she would never think of Joffrey again, never wonder if she was too broken to be loved. Never wonder if she deserved the fairy tale ending she always dreamed of as a little girl.

 _Stupid_.

Sansa sighed, wanting nothing more at that moment then to be at home in her most comfortable pair of sweats, curled up in her bed surrounded by her fluffiest blankets and pillows. Too bad she’d told her mother she was staying as Jeyne’s that night, otherwise going home might have been a possibility. She mentally kicked herself for her foolishness.

_Guess the only thing left to do now is to find Jeyne and pray I can convince her to leave with me._

Sansa turned to the mirror, running her fingers through her hair to try and tame it. She straightened her dress and took a deep breath before exiting the bathroom.

The music from downstairs became louder as she neared the top of the stairs. She had just begun to wonder how in the hell she was going to be able to extract Jeyne from Theon long enough to get a word in when she was startled by the sound of a door opening.

Without warning, a hand shot out, wrapping around her wrist to pull her into a darkened room. The scream that had been building died in her throat when a hand came up to cover her mouth. The door closed behind her enveloping her in darkness.

Before she could imagine all the horrible ways in which this scenario could end up a voice spoke out, simultaneously soothing and infuriating her.

“Shh, it’s just me.” The lights flicked on. Jon stood in front of her, close enough that she could feel the heat coming off his body. He was leaning against her, pressing her into the wall. Her fear had been extinguished but her anger had increased tenfold, like throwing gasoline on an already raging fire.

“ _Don’t_ do that,” she snapped, pulling his hand from her mouth and pushing at his chest hard enough that it caused him to stumble back. Her chest heaved with anger and something else she refused to acknowledge, likely due to their close proximity.

His eyes still held the fire from earlier though it was much more subdued. Sansa straightened, pushing off from the wall.

“You’re angry.”

“How incredibly perceptive of you,” she deadpanned.

“That’s not what I mean. You’ve been angry with me all night.”

Sansa crossed her arms defensively, cursing herself for being so transparent. “Why would I be angry with you?” she scoffed.

“You tell me.”

Sansa looked away, refusing to answer. She took the opportunity to observe their surroundings, instead. It was a large office, obviously belonging to Theon’s father. Everything was deep mahogany and rich leather; just oozing with overstated wealth and male bravado.

She could imagine why Theon would want to keep people out of here. His father wasn’t known to be a particularly level-headed man. Though, to be fair, if he were really that worried he could have done more than hang a rope with a sign.

A soft tug on her chin startled her from her thoughts. Jon’s thumb skimmed over her bottom lip, soothing where she had been unconsciously gnawing at it.

“What is it?” He asked softly.

Sansa’s eyes flicked upwards. Jon stared at her like he was trying to read her mind, discover all her secrets. She swallowed deeply, pulling away from his touch.

She took a deep breath, feeling so incredibly _tired_. Tired of the back and forth and the games and the outright _uncertainty_ between the two of them. Not to mention, the burning curiosity and her overwhelming need for answers.

“I saw the picture that Theon posted earlier,” she divulged. “The one with all of you. You were…with a girl.”

Hearing the words out loud, Sansa realized how ridiculous she sounded though she couldn’t find the strength to care at the moment.

She watched as Jon’s eyebrows furrowed before realization dawned on him. His head fell forward as he emitted a low chuckle. Sansa’s hands balled into fists at her sides. Wheeling around, she tried to wrench open the door but was thwarted as Jon’s hand shot out, preventing her.

“Wait.”

“Why? So you can laugh at me?”

“I wasn’t laughing at you, Sansa. Will you let me explain?” His hand was firmly planted next to her head, his chest nearly pressed against her back. She waited a minute, weighing her options then turned around, grudgingly.

When he seemed sure she wouldn’t flee, he took a step back putting some space between them, for which Sansa was grateful. She took a steadying breath.

“Who is she?”

“Her name is Arianne.” He answered.

Sansa said nothing, watching his expression closely. She refused to prompt him any further. She’d been honest with him, now it was his turn.

Jon shoved his hands in his pockets. “We dated, a while ago. Briefly. We’re friends now.”

Sansa nodded, absorbing the new information. To her surprise, he continued.

“She’s not from around here, but she’s friends with Theon as well. She dropped by to wish him a happy birthday.”

She studied his face, looking for any signs of deception. “Okay.”

Jon’s eyebrows rose as if to say, _Is that all? Anything else?_ There was, of course. There always was when it came to him. But unlike the other questions she’d asked, Sansa wasn’t sure if she wanted an answer to this one. Then again, who knew when or if she’d ever get this chance again. A forthcoming Jon Snow was a rare occurrence.

“Are there others?”

He tilted his head, a questioning look on his face.

“I mean, now? Is there anyone else that you’re…involved with?” She hesitated, trying to figure out the best way to phrase it.

Sansa’s heart seized when she took his slight head bob as an answer at first rather than Jon’s reaction to comprehending her question. He sighed, looking at her with an almost rueful expression and something else she couldn’t discern.

“No,” he murmured. “No one else. Just you.”

She tried her best to not let the overpowering sense of relief show. “Oh,” she managed, dumbly.

Jon nearly smiled at that. He walked towards her slowly, eyes glued to her face. That familiar fire flickered to life, turning his grey eyes darker. Sansa didn’t move, she hardly drew a breath.

He stopped in front of her, so close there was little more than a hair’s breadth between them. “Only you.” His hand came up to trace a finger down the edge of her jaw, so soft it sent a shiver through her.

Sansa let out a shaky exhale. “Say it again.”

His forehead rested against hers. “It’s only you, Sansa.” His eyes clenched shut, a pained look shadowing his face. “You’re all I see.”

Her heart thumped unevenly. She let her hands glide over his upper arms, content with the contact, however minuscule. She squeezed lightly, trying to bring him back from wherever his mind had taken him; trying to convey everything she wanted to say but didn’t know how.

Jon opened his eyes and brought his own hands to rest on her waist. He shook his head slowly, nose bumping against hers. “Silly, beautiful girl.” His hand skimmed up her side to cup the side of her neck, thumb brushing her cheek. “Sansa,” he whispered roughly, eyes nearly black with desire. “Let me show you.”

Sansa drew in a ragged breath, the look in his eyes turning her legs to jelly. She decided against speaking for fear of how her voice would sound, choosing to nod instead. Jon inclined his head towards her, close enough that she could feel his breath on her cheek.

She closed her eyes, anticipating the feel of his lips against hers. When nothing happened, they fluttered open to see Jon reaching behind her, his eyes never wavering from hers.

A soft click sounded as he turned the lock on the door into place, stepping away from her. She almost protested until he reached for her hand, twining their fingers together. He led her towards the center of the room, where a massive desk sat, finely carved in a reddish-brown wood.

They walked around it, to a large leather chair that looked more like a throne than a seat to conduct business in. Jon released her to pull the chair back, slipping between the space to sit.

Sansa watched him raptly. She could imagine Jon in an office somewhere, the spearhead of an important company. On the surface, he was calm but just underneath thrummed a natural strength, a key component for any leader. He would be someone for people to look to, to count on. A paragon of integrity and fairness.

“Come here,” he said, voice low. She walked towards him until her knee bumped his. Jon took her hand, leading her to stand in the space between his legs.

Her blood hummed in her veins when his fingers danced over the exposed skin of her upper thighs. The reaction was in stark contrast to the panic she felt on the dance floor earlier. But that wasn’t surprising. Everything was different when it came to Jon.

As if he could read her thoughts, he murmured, “I know what you were trying to do tonight.” His tone was matter of fact, though his eyes told a different story.

Sansa’s heart beat a little faster at his words, at the way his fingers inched upwards under the black material of her dress to caress the soft skin of her inner thighs. That familiar ache began to stir, making her want to squeeze her legs together.

“Trying to make me jealous.”

She flushed, even as she prepared to deny it. “I wasn’t—” She gasped, her previous train of thought scattering as Jon grazed the apex of her thighs with his knuckle, dragging it along the thin material of her underwear.

She bit her lip, absorbing the sensations he stoked in her. Her hands came back to grip the edge of the desk, tightly.

“Did I?” She gasped, her eyes on the ceiling above her as Jon continued the movement. “Make you jealous?”

He didn’t answer at first, only increased the pressure, causing her to inhale sharply.

“Maddeningly.”

Sansa couldn’t help the small smile that appeared on her lips, though she quickly regretted it when Jon’s fingers came to a halt. She made a noise of protest and glanced down to see his smirk.

He kept his eyes locked on hers as his fingers trailed the length of her thigh high boots and back, much too far from where she needed them. When they slipped back under her dress she expected them to journey back between her legs but they stopped just below, warm hands grasping the tops of her thighs.

Jon’s index fingers hooked into her underwear as he leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to her lower belly. He dragged the material down her legs agonizingly slow.

When they reached her ankles, he instructed her to lift her foot and then the other. Sansa gripped his shoulder to steady herself while he set the soft material aside. Jon stood, wrapping an arm around her waist and the other around the back of her thigh as he lifted her to sit on the edge of the desk.

He leaned forward, brushing his lips over the corner of her mouth. Sansa turned her head, trying to deepen the kiss but he pulled back, a slight smile on his face. She was confused when he sank back into the leather chair, grey eyes smoldering as they roved over her.

 _He’s teasing me_.

She tried her best not to squirm under his penetrating gaze, failing miserably as the ache between her legs intensified. His hand reached for her, wrapping around the ankle of the boot to pull it closer. Drawing patterns and shapes over the thin suede material, his fingers made their way up her calf.

“The boots,” he said, casually, “are they new?”

Sansa shook her head. “They’re Jeyne’s,” she breathed. Jon nodded, sliding his hands up her thighs. He halted when he reached the edge of her dress, fingers slipping under briefly to stroke at the soft skin beneath.

“And the dress?”

She swallowed, trying to keep her voice steady. “Jeyne’s.”

Without warning, Jon pulled her closer, planting her feet on the edge of the armrests. Sansa squealed clapping a hand over her mouth to quiet the giggles. He glanced up at her, a playful smile on his face. The laughter died away as she watched his expression go from playful to predatory.

Her heart rate sped when she realized how exposed she was in the new position. Nerves and feverish anticipation mixed together as Jon leaned forward, placing a feather-light kiss to the inside of her thigh.

“Remind me to thank her, then,” he replied, looking up at her with dark, hooded eyes. Sansa braced herself with one arm behind her, the other reaching out to clutch at his shoulder. His fingers dug into the flesh of her thighs as he continued a trail of scorching kisses interspersed with nips and licks.

Sansa’s heart pounded in her chest, her core throbbing. “Jon,” she gasped as he neared her center. She closed her eyes, tilting her head up towards the ceiling.

“Look at me, Sansa,” he ordered. She glanced down and Jon held her gaze as he descended. He was so close, so close—

The sound of the doorknob jiggling had Sansa shooting up so quickly she nearly kicked him. Jon straightened and they both looked to the door. She could hear murmured voices on the other side, though she couldn’t make out what they were saying.

When the jiggling stopped, they both let out a collective sigh of relief. Until an all too familiar voice began shouting. “Hey, fuckhead!”

The voice was unmistakably Theon’s. Sansa’s panic skyrocketed as they listened to him stomp up the stairs, letting out a string of curses, some of which she’d never even heard before. “Can’t you fucking read?”

She didn’t recognize the other voice as it muttered a response, but it sounded like it belonged to someone extremely intoxicated. Jon and Sansa listened to the exchange with bated breath, both as still as statues. Sansa’s nails dug into Jon’s shoulder where her hand still gripped, though he didn’t so much as flinch.

“I don’t give a flying fuck! If you come up here again I’m gonna toss you down these fucking stairs myself!” There was no reply, just the sound of someone stumbling down the stairs.

Theon remained at the end of the hallway, muttering something that sounded like “fucking cock goblin.” The tension in the air was palpable as they waited for him to walk away. If he tried to open the door to the office it would all be over. Sansa squeezed her eyes shut, praying to the old gods and the new that the allure of girls and alcohol was far stronger then the need to patrol the second floor.

It seemed like an hour had passed before finally they heard the stomp of his feet going down the stairs. Sansa let out a sigh, falling forward to rest her head on Jon’s shoulder like a deflated balloon. His wrapped his arms around her, rubbing soothing circles into her lower back.

“I didn’t realize Theon had such a potty mouth,” she mumbled, after a few minutes.

He chuckled, quietly.

She pulled away from him, looking back at the door. “We can’t stay in here.”

“No,” he agreed, “we can’t.”

Sansa glanced down at her hands clasped in her lap. “I wish there was somewhere for us to go. Where we didn’t have to worry about anyone else. Somewhere just for us. Somewhere that wasn’t a car or a porch,” she added, laughing softly.

When Jon didn’t answer she gazed up at him. “I think I know a place,” he murmured, after a moment.

She tilted her head, a question on her lips. He stood up, holding out his hand to her. “What do you say?”

 _What the hell_ , she thought, placing her hand in his. She hopped off the desk and smoothed down her dress, trying to discreetly scan the floor for her discarded underwear.

She spotted them just as Jon leaned down to pick them up. Her cheeks flamed in embarrassment. Instead of handing them back to her like she expected, he stashed them in his back pocket to Sansa’s extreme mortification. He flashed an irritatingly charming smile, gesturing towards the door. “Ladies first.”

 _He can’t be serious_.

She gaped at him. He quirked an eyebrow, challengingly, a playful look in his eyes.

 _He’s still teasing me_.

Sansa straightened, ignoring the uncomfortable wetness between her thighs and looked him square in the eye. “Ready when you are.”

Jon’s grin widened. He unlocked the door, peeking out into the hallway to make sure there were no more drunken revelers then gestured for her to follow him. They made their way down the stairs quickly and without being noticed, thankfully.

The party was still complete and utter chaos. There were even more people than before and the majority appeared to be even more intoxicated than before, as impossible as it seemed.

Jon surprised her when he took her hand, weaving his fingers with hers. She ignored the absurd fluttering it stirred in her stomach. As they maneuvered their way through the crowd, heading for the door, they passed the swarm of people still dancing to the blaring music.

Jon stopped abruptly, causing Sansa to run into him.

“What are you doing?” She shouted to him when he turned to her.

He leaned towards her so she could hear him over the noise. “Let’s dance.”

Sansa pulled back, certain she’d heard him wrong until she saw him wearing that same playful look he’d had upstairs. She gave a skeptical laugh. “You don’t dance.”

“I do when I have a reason to,” he yelled back, smiling at her.

She was at a loss for words, having never seen this side of him before. He was normally so careful, always making sure no one caught on to their involvement. She shook her head, completely baffled. “But…what about Robb? And Theon?”

“I’m almost positive Robb’s passed out in a back room somewhere. And Theon’s too self-absorbed to notice much besides his hair.”

Sansa bit her lip, still doubtful.

“You seemed pretty adamant about dancing earlier,” he quipped.

She pursed her lips to keep from smiling, cheeks growing pink at the mention of her previous escapades on the dance floor.

“C’mon, Sans, live a little,” he challenged. Sansa couldn’t help it; she burst out laughing. It was bizarre, the way he was acting was so far from what she’d come to expect from him. _What kind of alternate dimension was this?_

“Isn’t that what _I’m_ supposed to be saying to _you_?”

“Probably,” he grinned, “Guess you’re starting to rub off on me.”

“It was bound to happen, eventually,” she said, feigning smugness.

He laughed, holding his hand out to her.

This time Sansa took it without hesitation. He led her into the crowd, weaving around bodies until they found an area that wasn’t suffocating. When he turned to her she felt a stab of self-consciousness. Anger had clouded her mind before making it easy to let go of her inhibitions. Not to mention, she wasn’t sans panties before.

Jon seemed to take notice of her sudden lack of confidence just as a new song came blaring through the loud speakers. It was a smooth dance song with a Latin undertone. Sansa looked around at the people as they whooped and yelled excitedly.

Taking advantage of her distraction, Jon grabbed her, pulling her to him so quickly it knocked the air out of her. His lips quirked up and before she could draw a breath, he spun her away from him, her red hair fanning out around her like a halo of fire.

He spun her back to him just as quickly, her back pressed against his chest and his hands tight around her. She let out a string of breathless giggles, unable to contain them.

Jon leaned closer to her ear. “That smile looks good on you.”

Sansa looked back at him, grinning from ear to ear. “Where did you learn how to do that?”

“I’d tell you but then I’d have to kill you.”

She laughed again, shaking her head at his cheesy words. She turned around in his arms—her insecurity gone—as they danced along to the beat. Sansa was taken aback at how well he moved, especially considering all the jokes she used to hear Robb and Theon make.  

They held each other’s eyes as they danced, accompanied by coy touches; a brush of fingers over her thigh, a slight touch to his chest. Nothing overtly sexual, yet captivating all the same.

As the song came to an end Jon startled her by dipping her over his knee, so low the ends of her hair brushed the floor. Sansa couldn’t hold in the squeal of shock or the giggles that came afterwards. His face was so close to hers, their noses nearly touched as he stared at her with intense grey eyes.

Her laughter died down as she stared back, swallowing audibly. He pulled her up slowly, one hand wrapped tightly around her lower back, the other grasping the skin of her thigh. They were pressed so closely together she could feel the hard outline of his body against hers. It made the ache between her legs return with a vengeance.

Jon’s eyes flicked down to her lips briefly before returning to her eyes. “Ready to get out of here?”

“Definitely.”

He took a step back releasing his hold on her, but kept her hand firmly interlaced with his as they left the party, disappearing into the night together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have it! In the next chapter that takes place in the past, we'll get some more answers about Jon and get a peek into his backstory. I know a lot of you are eagerly awaiting the moment Robbie and Jon finally meet, its up next! :)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO SORRY this took like 800 years but this semester has been kicking my butt. I've also got some other things in the works, fic-wise. On the upside though, I've elected to skip summer classes so after next week I'll have a lot more free time to write. I love this story and am so excited for what's still to come. Thank you to everyone who continues to read, I love you guys!

When Sansa and Robbie entered the apartment, the first thing she did was glance at the clock to see how much time they had before Jon’s arrival. _Not much_ , she thought as Robbie released her hand to race towards his room.

“Wait,” she called. He turned, the blue flower still clasped tight in his little fist. “Let me have that.”

His face fell, thinking she’d changed her mind and decided to toss it in the trash. “I’m just going to put it in some water. Otherwise, it’ll shrivel up and turn brown like those peaches you promised you’d eat.”

Immediately, his expression brightened. “Oh, okay,” he said, handing it to her readily and scampering away. Sansa shook her head, repressing a smile.

She went to the kitchen, digging into the back of the cabinet for the lone vase she owned. After filling it with water, she set it in the middle of the kitchen table and dropped the flower inside. Reaching her hand out, she ran her fingers over the soft blue petals. They were silky to the touch.

Sansa tried to ignore the panicky feeling in her belly that had been steadily rising throughout the day. It was clawing its way up her throat, strangling her. She closed her eyes, trying to force it down. _Just breathe._

She concentrated on breathing deeply until the sudden ominous influx of saliva in her mouth had her rushing down the hall and into the bathroom. She shut the door behind her, trying not to alert Robbie.

Sansa curled over the toilet, quickly gathering her hair out of the way. Tears blurred her vision as her body rid itself of the volatile mix of emotions.

When her stomach had calmed, she flushed the toilet and went to the sink. She brushed her teeth and splashed some cool water on her face. Her throat felt raw, as if it’d been scrubbed with a steel brush.

She swallowed tentatively as she reached for a hand towel. Pressing the soft materiel to her face, she tried to breathe through the fear threatening to cripple her. _Oh gods,_ _I don’t think I can do this_.

Sansa tossed the towel aside and started to pace the tiny bathroom, feeling very much like a wolf in a cage—trapped.

Bracing herself over the sink, she blew out a gust of air and examined her reflection, determinedly. “Pull it together, Sansa,” she muttered. She closed her eyes, summoning the composure befitting a daughter of Catelyn Stark. This was happening and she had to be okay _. If Robbie sees that I’m nervous, it’ll be harder for him_.

Nodding at her reflection as if making a pact she thought, _Just keep it together. At least for the next few hours._

 ***

Sansa perched on the edge of the sofa, flipping through channels too quickly to register what was playing. The waiting was a slow torture. After compulsively glancing at the time on her phone the first dozen times, she’d shoved it between the couch cushions to keep it out of sight.

With a sigh, she tossed the remote aside and got up, deciding to go check on Robbie. He had been far too quiet.

Halfway down the hallway, she heard it. The quick rap of knuckles on the front door. She froze, unable to move. The sound had instantly sent any thought of composure flying out the window.

After what felt like an eternity she managed to force her feet into motion, walking the few steps it took to reach the door. Sansa paused with her hand on the knob and drew in a steadying breath. Her mask slipped into place.

Jon stood on the other side, dressed in a long-sleeved sweater and dark jeans. It was the most casual she’d seen him thus far. He wore a polite smile. “Hey.”

“Hi,” she replied, holding the door open and stepping aside. “Come in.”

He made his way into the small living room, seemingly at ease, save the nervous tick in his jaw. The two of them stood in the confined space awkwardly before Sansa’s manners kicked in. She cleared her throat. “Can I get you something to drink? Water, tea, coffee?”

“Oh no, I’m fine. Thanks,” he declined, scratching at the scruff on his jaw.

Sansa nodded as they lapsed into an uneasy silence. “Um, Robbie’s playing in his room. I’ll go…” she trailed off, motioning towards the room. She started down the hall, using the opportunity to discreetly wipe her sweaty palms off on the leg of her pants.

Pushing open his door and poking her head in, she glimpsed Robbie sitting on the floor. An array of toy cars encircled him. He hummed and murmured to himself, picking up each one to inspect before setting them back in their place.

Sansa walked into the room and knelt down next to him. He steadfastly ignored her, focusing his attention on the toys around him.

“Our friend is here,” she said, reaching out to brush the dark curls back from his forehead. “How about we go say hi?” When she got no response, she prompted him with a quiet, “Hmm?”

He sighed in a way she would have described as sullen if it weren’t so adorable. “Do we have to?”

She nodded. “It’ll be fun. You’ll see.” Sansa flashed her most convincing smile even as unease nettled her belly.

Robbie put down his toy cars and stood up, with a dutiful expression. Sansa held out her hand to him. She led him down the hallway, pulse racing wildly with each step she took.

As they came upon Jon in the living room, Robbie’s hand griped Sansa’s tighter making her heart ache. She wanted to scoop him up in her arms and pepper his face with kisses. She settled for a light squeeze, hoping to reassure him.

When Jon’s eyes landed on Robbie, his face lit up. The latter, however, was less than enthused. Robbie pulled his hand from Sansa’s to shift behind her, peaking at Jon from behind her leg with a wary curiosity.

Jon crouched down, offering a small smile. “Hello,” he started. “My name is Jon. I’m—I’m an old friend of your mother’s. What’s your name?”

When he didn’t answer, Sansa reached down to rub his back encouragingly. He played with the material of her pants before uttering, soft as a whisper, “Robbie.”

Jon didn’t seem discouraged by his reluctance as Sansa had feared he might. His grey eyes were understanding; his smile soft.

“Robbie,” he echoed. “Good name.” The expression on Jon’s face was one she recognized instantly. It was a sort of haunted wistfulness— something that came from thinking of ghosts and broken promises.

He swallowed hard before clearing his throat. “Well, I know we just met but I actually have a bit of a favor to ask you.”

Robbie stopped fidgeting with her pant leg and glanced up, his interest piqued.

“You see,” he began, pulling out a small, fuzzy object he’d been holding slightly behind his back, “I saw this little guy the other day and decided to take him home with me. Thing is, I already have a dog at home. His name is Ghost and he can get pretty jealous when there’s another animal around. Likes to think of himself as a lone wolf, I guess.” He smiled, turning the stuffed animal in his hands.

Robbie leaned forward but kept his arm wrapped around Sansa’s leg. “I don’t want anything to happen to him so I was wondering if maybe you’d like to take care of him for me.”

Jon caught Robbie’s gaze and held it out to him in offering. It was a small grey wolf, a little bigger than his hand. For some inexplicable reason, the sight prompted a deep melancholy to grip her. The sensation was so powerful it made her head swim.

“What do you say?” He smiled. “Think you could help me out?”

Robbie contemplated for half a minute before his eyes flicked up to Sansa for guidance. She smiled down at him, nodding in encouragement. Tentatively, his little hand reached out to accept the wolf. He brought it close to his face, studying it. The smallest of smiles graced his lips, highlighting the chubbiness of his cheeks.

“What do you say?” Sansa said, running her hand over the top of his head.

Robbie tore his gaze from the wolf and murmured a shy, “Thank you.”

Jon winked. “No, thank you.” He stood, shoving his hands in his pockets. “So, I’ve heard from a very reliable source that you have quite the collection of transformers.”

Robbie nodded cautiously.

“I had a ton of them when I was your age. They were some of my favorite toys.”

“You have transformers?” He asked, sounding a bit awed.

“Not anymore, unfortunately,” Jon frowned, “I gave them all away when I got older.”

Robbie looked down at the stuffed wolf as he pondered Jon’s answer. His next words were hesitant. “You could play with mine…if you want.”

“That’s very kind of you to offer, I would love that,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “I hope you have Bumblebee. He’s my favorite.”

Robbie’s eyes lit up. “He’s my favorite, too,” he whispered, reverently.

A dazzling smile spread across Jon’s face. His eyes flicked up to Sansa’s for a split second before falling away. She could see the connection between them forming, as if it had grown into a corporeal thing. As she watched them, she registered a single thought. _Another Stark fallen under the spell of Jon Snow_.

 ***

Sansa busied herself in the tiny kitchen, wiping down the already spotless counter and pretending to be terribly interested in organizing the contents of her pantry.

It was important that Jon and Robbie be able to bond without her hovering over them. It was never her intention to monitor Jon’s interactions with her— _their_ —son. It was only ever about easing Robbie into the situation as comfortably as they could.

And so, when Robbie had shyly offered to show Jon his hoard of transformers, she had answered the subsequent look Jon shot her with a reassuring nod. He seemed to be winning Robbie over despite her worries. Though, in hindsight, she should have expected an outcome like this.

Jon had always been good with kids, particularly of the Stark variety. Her younger brothers and sister had been downright obsessed with him.

A sharp pain shot through her at the thought of her siblings. She squeezed her eyes shut and clutched the kitchen counter for support. _Not today_ , she silently prayed.

Over the years she’d become an expert at keeping things locked away within the recesses of her mind but with Jon’s sudden reappearance in her life, it was becoming more difficult to keep certain memories from seeping into her conscious thoughts.

Objectively, she realized it wasn’t healthy but it was the only way she knew—the only way she’d ever known. Robbie needed her, she couldn’t afford to lose herself to the past.

Sansa sighed and rolled her shoulders, trying to shake off the dark direction her thoughts had taken.

The soft murmur of voices drifted down the hallway. She didn’t want to hover but she was desperately curious as to how things were going. Her teeth closed around her bottom lip as she contemplated, _Maybe just a peak…_

Sansa padded along toward the bedroom, hoping the creaky floorboards wouldn’t alert them to her presence. She could hear Jon’s voice as she neared, leaning forward to peek into the room. The two of them were seated on the floor, toy cars and transformers scattered around them. She strained to catch the tail end of what Jon had been saying.

“—he needed a home and I guess, at the time, I needed a friend. So, he’s been with me ever since.” Jon looked up from the transformer he was fiddling with to smile at Robbie.

“How come you named him Ghost?”

“Well, he’s got fur as white as snow and he’s unusually quiet for such a big dog. It seemed to fit him better than Snowball or Fluffy.”

That earned him a giggle making Jon’s lips quirk. Robbie squeezed the stuffed wolf to his chest and looked at Jon with inquisitive eyes. “How big is he?”

“Oh, very.”

“Bigger than me?”

Jon chuckled. “You could probably ride on his back if he’d let you.”

Robbie’s eyes lit up at the prospect.

“But he gets very shy around people he doesn’t know,” he said, quickly.

“Oh,” Robbie frowned, eyebrows furrowed. “Well…maybe I can meet him. He’ll know me then. I always wanted a dog of my own but our house is too small and mama says it wouldn’t be fair for him. Do you think Ghost would like me?”

“I do, yeah,” Jon replied, watching Robbie with such a warmness in his eyes it made Sansa’s chest tighten. She inched away from the door, soft steps carrying her back towards the kitchen.

She set about filling the tea pot and setting it on the stove top. Her son’s curiosity was of no surprise to her, he’d been begging her for a dog since he was old enough to form words.

Part of her was pleased to see Jon and Robbie together but there was another part, a small part, that feared the changes that would soon follow. She’d planned her whole life around being a single mother. It was what she knew, something she’d grown comfortable with over the years.

Up until she’d seen the two of them together, it hadn’t fully sunken in that there really was no going back. Something she had previously always thought of as a mere daydream was now becoming all too real.

She and Jon would have to find a way to co-exist in this situation. There would be talk of co-parenting, maybe even custody agreements. They would always be in each other’s orbit, for the foreseeable future. There was no avoiding it.

Sansa ran her fingers through her hair, feeling abruptly drained. Why did it always feel like she could never get her head above water?

A light touch on her arm startled her out of her thoughts, making her jump. She turned around to find Jon, eyebrows pulled together as he gazed at her.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, you didn’t. I was just distracted, I guess,” she gave a little laugh, though it came out sounding a bit breathless. “Is everything okay?”

Jon glanced back towards the hallway. “Yeah, everything’s fine.” He smiled, “It’s great, actually. Robbie’s going to the bathroom and then he said something about a picture book he wanted to show me.”

 _Picture book_ , she wondered. “Oh,” she smiled in realization, “he means the photo album I made him. It’s pictures of him when he was a baby and on birthday’s, things like that. He loves seeing how small he used to be.”

Jon’s smile dimmed. Sansa glanced away, realizing her mistake. She chewed her lip anxiously before the whistling of the tea pot cut through the suddenly tense air. Only when her back was turned did she ask, “Do you want something to drink?”

He hesitated briefly before answering. “Sure, just some water would be great.”

Sansa made herself a cup of her favorite lemon flavored herbal tea and poured Jon a glass of water. She handed it to him and he murmured his thanks, his eyes drawn to the flower on the table.

“Is that a winter rose?”

“It looks very similar. But I don’t think it’s the real thing. They’re native to—”

“To the North, I know,” Jon finished, reaching out to touch the petals. “Shame. I haven’t seen one in a very long time. Reminds me of…” His voice trailed off, melancholic.

“Home?” Sansa supplied, her tone matching his.

Jon’s arm fell to his side. He cleared his throat, his eyes meeting hers. “Sansa,” he started.

She tensed instinctively at the change in his tone, her hands clutching the steaming cup she held.

“About what happened at the café, with Ygritte. I know you said it wasn’t a big deal but I just want you to know…it wasn’t how I wanted it to happen. I never wanted to ambush you like that.”

Halfway through, Sansa had started to protest. “Jon, it’s fine. Really. I mean, it was a bit of a shock but I guess in hindsight I should have expected it.” She fidgeted with the cup in her hand, feeling uncomfortable with the turn in the conversation.

Offering a small smile, she continued, “We’re going to be in each other’s lives for quite a while it seems. And there’ll probably be other people involved along the way, people we’re seeing at the time. I’m sure we’ll both make mistakes. All we can really do is try our best.”

Jon had an indecipherable look on his face. “Are you?” He asked. Sansa cocked her head to the side, not understanding. “Seeing anyone,” he clarified.

“Oh, no,” she scoffed just as Jon began to apologize.

“I’m sorry,” he shook his head, “it’s none of my business.”

As soon as the words escaped, she’d regretted it, feeling irrationally embarrassed about the state of her dating life. “No, it’s fine. I uh—” She looked down into the cup she held, finger tapping at the ceramic side. “I hadn’t been. Dating, I mean. But a friend of mine wants to set me up with someone he knows. Like a blind date kind of thing.” Sansa laughed, quietly.

She couldn’t say what had possessed her to tell him about the potential date, but she found that once she’d started, she couldn’t stop.

Jon didn’t answer straight away and for some reason she didn’t understand, she couldn’t raise her eyes to meet his.

Finally, “That’s great. You should go for it. Never know where it might lead, right?”

Sansa smiled and nodded, feeling like the air had been sucked from her lungs. She didn’t look up. She couldn’t see the expression on his face while she struggled to keep the false smile on her lips. “Right,” she agreed, bringing the steaming cup to her lips. It burnt her tongue but she hardly flinched.

Robbie chose that moment to come running into the kitchen out of breath and with his shirt tucked into his pants. “I found it finally,” he declared, struggling to hold up the large photo album, “It was under my bed next to my old socks.”

Sansa breathed a laugh, despite herself. He glanced at her then, as if just remembering she were there. “Hi, mama. I’m gonna show Jon our costumes from last Halloween.”

“Come here, let’s fix your shirt.” She knelt down in front of him, pulling his half-tucked shirt out of his pants and smoothing out the wrinkles.

“Costumes, huh? We’re you a matching set?” Jon asked.

“Yep,” Robbie beamed. “Mama was Princess Peach and I was Mario.”

Sansa’s lips quirked, remembering his insistence that they be matching. “Complete with a fake mustache and everything,” she said, reaching up to tweak his nose. Robbie giggled.

“Oh, well this I have to see,” Jon said.

Sansa stood as Robbie led Jon to the sofa. He climbed up, situating himself with the photo album on his lap, his little legs sticking out over the edge of the couch cushion. Jon took the seat next to him while Robbie launched into the details of their last Halloween, pointing enthusiastically at the pictures while Jon listened attentively.

Sansa turned away with a lump in her throat and started preparing dinner.

 

“Robbie, go wash your hands. It’s almost time for dinner.” He closed the photo album on his lap and pushed it aside to jump off the couch. “Soap and water,” she reminded him as he ran down the hallway.

Sansa’s arms wrapped around her middle, fingers picking at a stray thread on her oversized sweater as Jon stood. “You’re welcome to stay if you want. For dinner. It’s nothing fancy, just chicken and rice.”

“Ah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “I appreciate the offer. Really. It’s just…I promised Ygritte we’d have dinner together when I got home.”

“Oh,” she replied, genuinely surprised. “I didn’t realize she was still in the city.”

He cleared his throat, looking down briefly. “Yeah, she is. She’s uh— actually in the process of moving down here.”

Sansa blinked, feeling absurdly caught off guard. “Oh, wow.”

“It’s just with the distance and everything…I don’t know. It just seemed like the most logical next step.”

“No, of course,” she said, regaining her bearings. “That’s great, Jon. I hope the move goes smoothly for you guys.”

He nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets. He opened his mouth then shut it and opened it again. Before he got the chance to speak Robbie appeared announcing that his hands were clean.

He turned towards Sansa with guileless blue eyes and asked, “Is he gonna eat with us, Mama?”

“Um, well—” she started, her eyes sliding over to Jon’s. He crouched down in front of Robbie with a warm smile.

“I wish I could, but it’s getting late and I’ve got to be getting back to check on Ghost. He may act tough when there’s another animal around but he’s really just a big baby.”

Robbie’s face fell. “Oh, okay.”

“I’d very much like to come see you again soon. Maybe we can all have dinner together then. Would that be alright with you?” Jon ventured.

He scuffed his feet against the floor, not meeting Jon’s eyes. “I guess,” he murmured, though the furrow between his brow lessened.

Jon stood. “It’s a plan, then.”

Sansa chewed on the inside of her cheek, not knowing how to proceed. Fortunately for her, Jon spoke first. “I’ll call you,” he offered, making it sound more like a question than a statement. She nodded.

“I’ll see you soon, okay?” he said to Robbie who was watching him curiously again. “Take good care of Mr. Wolf.”

“I will, I promise,” he whispered, solemnly.

Jon flashed Robbie another smile and nodded goodbye to Sansa before leaving the tiny apartment.

***

After putting Robbie to sleep later that night, Sansa lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. She wanted nothing more than to slip into unconsciousness for a few blissful hours but her mind would not allow it. Each moment played over and over on a continual loop, like a movie reel she couldn’t turn off.

The day had gone better than she’d expected—better than she could’ve _hoped_. It should have put her mind at ease, yet she couldn’t shake the gnawing emptiness in the pit of her stomach. It made her want to reach inside and rip out her innards if only for a chance at relief.

She burrowed under the blankets, wishing for sleep but unable to stop picturing the look on Jon’s face when he’d told her Ygritte would be moving in with him or the way his voice had sounded when he’d encouraged her to date.

_Never know where it might lead, right?_

Jon had moved on, it couldn’t be any more clear. And he very obviously had no qualms with her doing the same. She wanted to hate him for it—for everything. It’d be easier that way. But she didn’t.

Jon had lost just as much as she, more even. She would never begrudge him his happiness. She could remember a time when it had meant more to her than her own. Is that what he wanted? For her to be happy? Or was he just intent to keep the fragile peace between them for Robbie’s sake?

_And what do I want?_

She squeezed her eyes shut. All she could see was stormy grey. _Grey_ , the color that haunted her.

_I want to be happy. I don’t want to feel like this anymore._

Jon had moved on and now it was time for her to do the same.

Sansa let out a shaky breath and reached for her phone on the night stand. She pulled up her text thread to Loras and started typing.

_I’ve thought about what you said_

His reply came a few minutes later.

_What’s the verdict?_

_You can set it up_

_Well tone down the excitement lol but you got it, doll face ;)_

She slowly set her phone back on the night stand. Turning on her side, she wrapped her arms around herself and pulled her knees to her chest. When sleep finally came to her that night, her dreams centered around a shadowy grey figure she couldn’t help but reach out for. And when her fingers finally made contact, he slipped through them like mist, leaving her alone in the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not too sure how I feel about this chapter, I kept re-reading and editing again and again and this is where it took me. As always, hope you enjoyed and thank you for the continued support and interest in this story!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Peeks out from behind my writer's block* Hellooo, anyone still out there? 
> 
> Good lord, this was a monster. I think this is the longest chapter I've posted to date. But let me tell you, it feels SO GOOD to finally get this sucker up. It's just a mess of smut and fluff and Stark family hijinks. A lot of these scenes were floating around inside my head and ended up being what inspired me to write this story. Hopefully, I did them justice! Also, a big thank you to anyone who's still interested in this despite me being the absolute worst at updating in any kind of consistent manner at all. You guys are the best! Enjoy :)

 

The lights of the town flew by in fluorescent blurs as Sansa watched out the window. Jon drove them from the party, heading towards the other side of town at a speed that was guaranteed to land him a ticket.

He still hadn’t mentioned where it was he was taking her. Though, to be honest, Sansa couldn’t really find it in herself to care. She sat in the passenger seat, trying to focus on something other than the burning ache between her legs in a desperate attempt to keep from outright squirming.

It was no small feat.

And the heated glances he kept shooting in her direction each time they came to a red light certainly didn’t help matters. The back and forth teasing they had taken part in for most of the night had taken its toll.

Sansa’s skin flushed thinking about the way Jon’s eyes devoured her as he kissed a trail up her inner thigh right before they were interrupted. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, pressing her legs together at the memory.

Jon caught the movement, the corner of his lips twitching. She would have been embarrassed if not for the way his hand tightened over the steering wheel.

She wasn’t sure if knowing Jon was as affected as she was made things better or worse. Sansa took a deep breath and sent a silent prayer to the gods that wherever it was they were headed, wasn’t much farther. 

***

The car came to a stop in front of a small, darkened house. It looked vacant. Sansa’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Where are we?”

Jon turned the car off, taking a moment before he answered. “This was—” he broke off, clearing his throat. “This  _is_ my home.”

 _Jon’s home_. The house he grew up in. “Oh,” she uttered softly as the pieces of the puzzle began to click into place.

Jon got out of the car and walked around to the passenger side to open her door. She was too invested in her next thought to feel giddy over the gesture. “Is this where you’ve been coming? On the nights you don’t stay?” He nodded carefully.

Sansa got out of the car and he shut the door behind her. A wave of relief washed over her so strongly she felt dizzy with it. _There’s no one else and this is where he comes when he leaves me and maybe it’s the only place left where he can feel close to his mother and maybe, maybe, maybe._

The thoughts bounced around in her head while her eyes roved over the house Jon called home. When she noticed him watching her intently, she offered a small smile and slipped her hand into his. He led her down the walkway to the darkened house and unlocked the front door. It swung open on creaky hinges.

He gestured for her to enter first then followed, shutting the door behind them. Sansa entered the living room and took in her surroundings.

The inside gave off an air of having been homey at one time but had now come to closely resemble a museum—a building whose sole purpose was to house unused artifacts lying about to collect dust. Much the same as the outside it screamed empty, no one home.

A vague memory of Joffrey snapping his fingers in front of her face swam into recollection. _Hello, anyone fucking home?_

She blinked out of the memory to Jon’s eyes on her. “What?”

“I said I’m sorry for the mess. Not really used to having visitors.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she reassured.

“Do you want something to drink?”

“Sure. Just a glass of water, please.”

Sansa wrapped her arms around herself, feeling out of place. This was his territory, whereas all of their previous encounters had either been on hers or a sort of neutral ground. This was the place he came to when he needed to be alone, when he needed to get away from everybody, including her. Yet, here she stood.

She took in the scene with curious eyes, eager for any secrets this sanctuary of his might divulge. The living room was cramped, displaying a worn brown sofa and a coffee table with chipped paint. By the door, hung a woman’s old coat and directly under it, a pair of shoes.

A decent fireplace sat opposite the sofa with the mantlepiece adorned in picture frames. Sansa inched closer to get a better look, noticing the thin layer of dust that covered them as she did. There was an array of pictures, most of them chronicling Jon’s years from a chubby faced infant to a young teen. Her gaze was drawn to one picture in particular.

It was taken outside—maybe in a park or forest preserve—and centered on a boy and young woman. Jon couldn’t have been more than four or five. The woman with long, dark hair and grey eyes had her cheek pressed against his, smiling for the camera.

Sansa tensed when she felt his presence behind her, like she’d been caught red handed doing something she shouldn’t. She turned to meet his eyes, taking the glass of water from his outstretched hand. “Thank you.”

His eyes flicked to the picture behind her. His face was blank but there was a tick in his jaw that betrayed his calm exterior.

“That was taken in Godswood Park on a rare day when the sun was actually out. You’d never be able to tell, right?”

Sansa turned back to the picture. “No, not at all.”

She’d never known the specifics of his mother’s death, only that she’d been sick for years and only recently passed away. She remembered once, years ago, in a fit of irritation asking Robb why they never went to Jon’s house instead. He had said simply: _His mother is sick_. She hadn’t asked again after that.

“She was very beautiful,” she murmured, gazing at the picture of the woman who couldn’t have been more than a handful of years older than she was.

Jon didn’t say anything but the air had grown heavier between them. She wanted to know about his mother and what happened and how he felt about it but mostly, she wanted him to _want_ to tell her.

Their arrangement was as delicate as a house of cards, one wrong move could send it tumbling to the ground. And yet she would risk it all, just for the chance to be closer to him.

“Will you tell me about her?”

He was silent long enough to get her pulse racing and then she heard him exhale through his nose.

“She was…fierce,” he began, voice low, “and stubborn. Warm. Funny. A terrible cook.” He blew out a breath that sounded like a laugh, making her smile. “And she was strong, even when she wasn’t.”

A lump formed in her throat as she turned to search his expression. His eyes were faraway.

Sansa tried to imagine the series of events that had changed the smiling little boy from the picture into the solemn figure that stood before her. In her mind’s eye, she envisioned a small boy with sad grey eyes desperately trying to save his mother and being unable to. Her heart ached for him.

She wanted to help him, to wrap her arms around him and kiss away his pain, his fear. She wanted to heal him, for them to be able to heal each other. _If he would just let me in_.

Before she’d even realized it, Jon had shown up and become her lifeline. She wanted to do that, _be_ that for him. If he was ever sinking into the darkness she would pull him out. Or sink with him.

Her fingers cupped his cheek, gently, hesitantly. Somehow, words didn’t seem adequate enough to express all that she wanted to but she prayed he could see it there in her eyes.

Sansa wanted to comfort him and so she did it in the best way she knew how. Bringing their faces closer together, she brushed her lips over his and when they parted, she slipped her tongue into his mouth, caressing his gently.

The change in his expression wouldn’t have been noticeable to most but Sansa could see it. She watched as his eyes turned from smoky grey to coal black and then as those coals were lit on fire and began to burn.

Their breath intermingled as they stared at each other. Sansa’s belly tightened at the heavy-lidded look he gave her and when he raised his hand to trace his fingers over her jawline and down the column of her neck, her body started to heat.

She couldn’t say who moved first but all at once, they were a tangle of hands and lips and teeth, twisted around each other like vines. Stumbling backwards, they fell in a heap onto the sofa with Sansa astride him.

Jon’s hands slid up her neck, thumbs pressing into her chin to tilt her head so he could lick and bite at the base of her throat and her own hands moved to the hem of his shirt to lift it but his hands stopped her and then he was pushing her away and _why is he pushing her away_?

“Not here,” he said, hoarsely.

He stood, pulling Sansa along with him and led her down the hall to the room at the end. She didn’t get the chance to inspect the new space before he was pulling her towards him again.

Jon held her face between his hands, working his lips against hers in a way that sent a sharp surge of heat pooling in her lower belly. Sansa wound her arms around his neck, crushing her chest to his in a desperate bid to get closer to him.

They staggered towards the bed with their hands full of each other until Sansa lost her footing and fell backwards, pulling Jon atop her. She erupted into laughter. Jon raised himself up on his arms to look down at her splayed out on the bed.

He stood up, eyeing her with a devilish smile. “You know, right about now is when I’d be slipping those lacey black panties off you, but…” He tilted his head, indicating the scrap of fabric he’d swiped from her at the party, currently taking up residency in his back pocket.

Sansa opened her mouth to make a sharp retort when he reached behind him to grasp a handful of his shirt and pulled it over his head, dropping it on the ground next to him. The words died in her throat.

Jon wasn’t bulky. His muscles were lean but well defined. The word that came to mind as she looked at him was agile. Clearly, those construction jobs he’d been taking on had done him well. _Very well._

She sat up on the edge of the bed and reached out to touch him in awe, running her fingers down his stomach until she reached the waistband of his jeans. Sansa looked up at him through her lashes. He watched her intently.

Leaning forward slowly, so slowly, she pressed her lips against his lower abdomen. His skin blazed under her touch—burning as hot as any wildfire. Sansa’s tongue darted out to taste him. Unsteady hands began to fumble with the button of his jeans.

“Sansa,” Jon swallowed hard, reaching for her hands. “No.”

Her stomach sank at his rebuff. “Why? Why not?”

Jon steadied himself, regaining that playful, hungry look in his eye. He leaned over so that she had to recline back on the bed. His eyes fell to her lips before locking on hers.

“I like to think of myself as somebody who keeps his promises.” Jon’s lips tickled the shell of her ear as he murmured, “And so I fully intend to finish what I started.” His teeth closed around her earlobe making her core throb.

Sansa’s breath came in soft little gasps as Jon moved further down her body, pressing hot kisses through the thin fabric of her dress. His hands slid over her hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh of her thighs.

“Jon,” she breathed as her core clenched with a sudden desperate ache. She writhed underneath him as he settled between her thighs. She had half a mind to be embarrassed about her exposed state but the overwhelming need for him overrode even her unyielding sense of modesty.

Jon nipped at the soft skin of her inner thigh making her shudder. His hands gripped the end of her dress and dragged it up past her hips until it was bunched up above her bellybutton. “You—” he growled, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to her thigh, “are—” another kiss, closer to her core, “so—” kiss, “sweet.”

Sansa felt his breath ghost over her burning skin and her body was on fire and her core throbbed so intensely it was painful and _if he didn’t put his mouth on her soon she was definitely going to die_.

Her eyes slid shut in immense relief as Jon finally pressed the softest of kisses to her center. “Open your eyes, Sansa,” he whispered roughly. “Look at me.”

With an incredible amount of effort, she peeled her eyes open and met his heated gaze. His eyes were black with desire, no hint of grey whatsoever. “Good girl,” he praised as he ducked his head and licked into her with the eagerness of a starving man.

He was good. _Oh, gods was he good_. She couldn’t decide whether it made her jealous or grateful. Sansa turned her head, trying to smother the moan that was clawing its way up her throat, her fingers twisting in the sheets as Jon devoured her.

He pulled back to blow cool air over her fevered, wet skin before his tongue began to circle that small bundle of nerves. Involuntarily, her back arched and she couldn’t help squirming. One arm wrapped around her thigh and the other went across her lower stomach, fingers splayed to hold her still.

Sansa’s teeth closed around her lower lip, desperately trying to keep all the embarrassingly obscene noises from spilling out.

“No cheating,” Jon said, rising up from between her legs to curl over her, noses nearly touching. “Let me hear you. It’s just us, Sansa. No one else. I want to hear every breath, every sigh, every moan.” He brushed his lips—still wet with her—over hers. “Understand?”

Sansa swallowed and nodded. “Yes.”

Jon settled back between her thighs, shouldering her knees further apart. He used his fingers first, trailing them through the wetness gathered at her core before parting her.

He licked into her like it was his sole purpose in life, tongue twisting and curling, sucking and lashing, until her thighs quivered and her eyes rolled back, until her heart hammered violently in her chest.

And he didn’t stop. He continued working her meticulously until he’d pulled the most lascivious sounds from her, wringing them from her body like he needed them—as one would need oxygen to breathe.

“Jon,” she cried out, twisting underneath him. “Holy shit.” Sansa’s body was a livewire, thrumming with a need so intense she feared it would drive her mad. She was so close, _so close_ , hovering just near the edge.

She felt his smile against her skin. Calloused fingers gripped her thighs to pull her closer. His lips encircled her clit and he _sucked._ The tension coiling low in her belly snapped, like a rubber band pulled taut and then she was drowning in a release so blissful she could hardly draw a breath.

Jon stayed between her legs, pressing wet kisses to her inner thighs and murmuring words of praise. When her breathing returned to normal, he crawled up her body. “What do you want, hmm?” He hummed. “Tell me,” he punctuated his demand with a flash of teeth on her hip.

Sansa wasn’t sure if it was the post-orgasm hormones flooding her or if it was the night’s previous events that had the words lodging themselves in her throat, refusing to be swallowed down.

Jon had been open and honest with her tonight, in more ways than one. She didn’t want to give that up. He couldn’t erase the mark the world had left on her, nor she on him but maybe they could leave their own.

Her eyes slid closed as her breath rushed from her lungs like birds freed from their cage. “You,” she whispered, shakily, “I want all of you.” _The bad and the good, the dark, the light, every single jagged piece. Just give me all of you. Please._

Jon’s lips stopped at the valley between her breasts before he raised his head to look at her. His tone was deliberately lighthearted even as his Adam’s apple bobbed. “In exchange for? What will I get?”

She could feel him wanting to pull away, to bury her words under playful banter but she wouldn’t let him. There in the darkness she could see him more clearly than ever before.

With trembling fingers, she reached for him, delicate hands cupping his face to bring him closer. She drew in a shaky breath, letting all her defenses drop and whispered one word, almost apologetically. “Me.”

Jon’s eyelids fluttered under the weight of the word, as if the mere sound of it caused him physical pain. Sansa stroked her thumb along his cheek, trying to bring him back to her. When his eyes finally refocused on hers, they pierced her to the core.

His lips came down harshly against hers. This kiss wasn’t like the others. It was desperate, frenzied, like he thought at any moment she would disappear from beneath him. It tasted different too.

Sansa realized she could taste herself on his lips. But instead of being repulsed, it only served to intoxicate her. She chased the taste, sliding her tongue into his mouth.

Before long, they were both panting again. Jon reared up, breaking the kiss and began to unbutton his jeans. Sansa hesitated briefly. _Oh gods, am I ready for this?_

“Sansa,” Jon groaned, sounding pained. “Tell me to stop.”

But she couldn’t. She wanted more. “Don’t,” she gasped out. “Don’t stop.”

He exhaled sharply, pushing his jeans further down his legs. His length sprang free, fully hard and leaking from the tip.

Sansa prepared herself for what was to come, hoping the pain wasn’t as bad as she’d always imagined it’d be with Joffrey. But she trusted Jon. She knew he’d be gentle with her. He wasn’t Joffrey.

Jon settled himself between her legs. He planted one hand beside her head and used the other to align himself with her center. But instead of pushing inside her, Jon slid through her slick heat making them both gasp aloud.

Sansa gripped his shoulders, pulling him down for an open-mouthed kiss. Still extremely sensitive from her earlier orgasm, she cried out when he thrusted against her again, rigid flesh gliding over her clit.

He took himself in hand, running the head of his length up and down her seam. “Oh my god,” she whined, head falling back against the bed.

“Is this what you want?” he murmured, huskily.

“Yes,” she gasped as he rubbed the head of himself against her clit. “I want you Jon. I want all of you. Please.”

Jon gripped the back of her head to pull her in for a hot, bruising kiss, and in a split second had repositioned them. He sat back, hands clutching her waist as Sansa straddled his lap. She tensed at the change in position, unsure of what to do.

Jon sensed her hesitation. “Like this.” He placed his hands on her hips to guide her. With his help, she ground herself against him making them both moan. His hand travelled up her body to curl lightly around her neck. “Just like that, Sansa. So good, so good. So beautiful,” he muttered into her skin.

Sansa felt the tension building low in her belly. “Jon,” she moaned, rubbing herself against him faster, desperately chasing that elusive edge. Her nails dug into his shoulders and he grunted into the side of her neck, fingers tightening over the column of her throat. Instead of frightening her, the action had the opposite affect. She felt utterly possessed by him; it was exhilarating.

Her hips faltered, losing their rhythm the closer she got to release. She was so close, she just needed a little more. Jon, sensing exactly what she needed, surged upwards, sliding through her slickness and hitting her clit just right.

Sansa cried out, release washing over her sharply. Jon pushed her back into the bed, hiking her leg up around his hip. He rocked against her, desperately chasing his own orgasm. He cursed into the dip of her shoulder, spilling his release over her lower tummy.

He collapsed next to her and they laid there, trying to catch their breath. Through the haze, Sansa felt the bed jostle. She peeled her eyes open just in time to glimpse his bare back as he left the room. Her heart plummeted.

She raised herself up on her elbows and cleared her throat. “Jon?”

There was no response. But a moment later he appeared in the doorway, holding a damp washcloth in his hand. He sat next to her and began to clean his cooling seed from her skin. The act was a simple one and yet it made her feel protected, cared for.

When he finished, he threw the rag into the dirty clothes hamper in the corner. Sansa pulled her dress down over her hips, preserving what was left of her modesty. Sitting up and wrapping her arms around her legs, she watched Jon as he crossed the room to sit at the end of the bed.

 _What now?_ She wondered. _Is this how the night ends? Will he send me away?_ Ice gripped her heart at the thought.

“Jon?” His eyes focused on her face. She swallowed and pressed on. “Why didn’t you—I mean, why didn’t we…you know…” she trailed off, hoping he’d grasp her meaning. “I wanted to,” she said quietly, hugging her knees closer to her. “I thought that you wanted to, too.”

“I didn’t have protection,” he explained.

“Oh. I’ve been getting the shot since I was sixteen.”

“That doesn’t protect against everything, Sansa.”

“But I haven’t—I’ve never—"

“I know,” he cut her off. “And I’ve always used condoms in the past but I just want to be sure.”

“I trust you,” she whispered.

Jon cupped her cheek, thumb stroking the soft skin there. She couldn’t help leaning into his touch. “Are you going to take me home now?”

“Do you want me to?”

Sansa shook her head, her eyes locked on his. “No,” she breathed.

Jon nodded. “Turn over.” She did as he said, turning on her side and facing away from him. He settled behind her, bare chest pressing against her back and covered them with a blanket. The heat his body gave off had her burrowing closer to him.

One of his arms slid underneath her, reaching around to caress her shoulder while the other wrapped around her waist, fingers splaying across her belly. She was surrounded by him; it was an intoxicating feeling.

Sansa couldn’t say how long they laid in silence for, with her head resting against him and Jon’s nimble fingers drawing shapes on her stomach over her dress. _So, this is what it feels like to be close to somebody. To be close to him._

She’d wanted this so badly, for so long. To be able to lie next to him in a comfortable silence after being together, taking joy in just being near one another. Never having to feel the distance, the disconnect he was so good at conveying. And now that she was within reach of it, she was terrified to lose it all.

Sansa pushed the thought from her mind, focusing instead on the comfort of his arms around her. “So, this is your room?” She asked, breaking the silence. Jon murmured his assent into the back of her neck.

Her eyes traveled around the small space, as if looking for clues that he had once belonged somewhere other than with the Starks. A bookcase stood opposite them on the other wall, stuffed to the brim with various different novels.

On the wall next to it was a small, secondhand desk. A poster for an obscure band Sansa didn’t know the name of was tacked to the wall above it.

His closet was sparse seeing as most of its contents had migrated to the closet in the Stark’s guest room, leaving behind an assortment of band tees, flannels and various tattered black t-shirts.

In the corner, on a rickety TV stand rested an old box television, like the one her parents probably had before she was born. The sight reminded her of something. “You know,” she began, teasingly, “I missed my favorite show to be with you tonight. And I didn’t even get a chance to DVR it.”

“Well, I’m honored.”

Sansa grinned. “You should be,” she quipped, wiggling around in his arms to face him.

Jon’s fingers linked together behind her back, pulling her closer. “Don’t tell me, Real Housewives of Westeros?”

“Hey. Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.” His quiet laughter shook the bed. “Besides, sometimes you need a little trashy TV to numb the brain. It’s good for you every once in a while. You could probably benefit from a marathon of trashy reality shows, actually. You think too much.”

Jon feigned surprise. “Who, me?”

“Yes, you,” Sansa laughed. “I can tell from the wrinkles starting to form on your forehead.”

“Wrinkles?”

She smiled softly, murmuring, “Don’t worry. I like them.” Delicate fingers brushed over his forehead, following a path down the straight bridge of his nose, lingering over the soft fullness of his lips. They parted suddenly, catching one of her fingers between his teeth.

Butterflies assaulted her stomach making it hard to contain her laughter. Jon held up her hand, kissing the tip of each finger in turn. “Was it worth it, then? Missing the world-renowned real housewives for this?”  

“Still deciding.” Jon pinched her side lightly as she giggled. “What about you, Mr. Holier-Than-Thou? What’s on _your_ DVR, huh?”

“What do you think?”

“Oh, something very serious and obscure probably. Documentaries on the climate change in the Stormlands. The dwindling population of silkworm in Braavos and how it’s affecting the modern-day economy. You know,” she shrugged.

“Close,” he chuckled. “But no, actually I’ve hardly ever used it. The only thing on there now are old episodes of Dancing with the Stars.”

Sansa gaped at him. “Really? After you gave me a hard time about _my_ taste in reality shows?”

“It wasn’t for me. Not really, anyways. It used to be my mother’s favorite.”

“Oh.”

They sat in silence until he continued in a low voice. “I guess it’s funny, all things considering. I couldn’t stand that show but it ended up being one of the only things that made her smile after she got sick. We’d sit on the sofa in the living room and watch it every week like clockwork.”

Sansa placed her hand on his chest, over his heart, a silent thank you for sharing with her. A thought occurred to her. “Dancing with the Stars,” she mused aloud. “Is that where you learned those moves you used at the party tonight?”

The corners of his lips curled upwards. “Guess you caught me.”

Sansa laughed quietly, nuzzling into his chest. “Does this mean you’ll have to kill me now?” she joked, referencing the cheesy line he’d used on her earlier.

Jon hummed, pulling her closer. “Maybe later.” She pressed her cheek against his bare chest, breathing in his scent and the warmth of his skin. After a little while she could hear his breathing begin to even out.

“Jon?” she whispered.

“Hmm?”

“I don’t think I ever told you how sorry I was. About your mother.” He stilled, but she pushed on. “I was always too wrapped up in my own problems to notice anyone else’s. I just…wanted you to know that.”

Jon lifted her hand from where it rested on his chest and brought it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her inner wrist. “Sleep, now.”

Sansa nodded and closed her eyes, tucking her head underneath his chin. She listened to the steady beat of his heart, the soft sound of his breathing as it deepened. When she was sure he was asleep she peeled her eyes open to look at him.

He looked different asleep than when he was awake, less solemn. Moonlight streamed through the window, lighting half of his face and leaving the other shaded in darkness. _Like a fallen angel,_ Sansa thought. _Beautiful and dark and solitary._

The full weight of her feelings for him overwhelmed her. She’d convinced herself that whatever it was they had between them was temporary, casual and that she was okay with it. But she couldn’t deny the truth any longer. Not even from herself.

“Jon?” she breathed. He didn’t move, didn’t show any indication that he was awake. “I think...” she swallowed, voice shaking, “I think I’m falling for you.”

Sansa leaned forward, barely touching her lips to his. His breathing stayed deep and even as she settled back into his protective embrace. She fell asleep not long after, listening to the steady beat of his heart. 

***

She was dreaming. There was a dark angel watching her from afar. He flew above her, keeping his distance, with wings made of black silk that shone in the moonlight. He sent her whispers of love and praise, carried to her on the wind. She wanted so badly to reach out and touch him.

His voice, more musical than any instrument, caressed her ears. _Sansa_ , he called to her. _Sansa._

“Sansa.” Gentle hands smoothed her hair back from her face. “Wake up, sweet girl.”

She rubbed at her eyes, blinking them open. The world slowly came into focus and the first thing that swam into view was a figure leaning over her. _My angel_. “What is it?” she murmured, sleepily.

Jon smiled down at her. “As much as I’d love to leave you asleep in my bed, I should really be getting you home.”

Sansa stretched letting out a kittenish mewl. “It’s okay. My mom thinks I’m sleeping at Jeyne’s.”

“Yes, but I’m sure there’ll be more than a few questions when it’s me dropping you off later and not Jeyne. Especially with the way you’re looking right now.”

“Oh?” she inquired. “And how’s that?”

Jon pressed a kiss to the side of her neck. “Thoroughly debauched.”

Sansa giggled. “I guess you have a point.”

“We have some time before we have to leave. You can wash up, if you want. The bathroom is across the hall. I’ll be in the kitchen.” He kissed her lips and left the room.

She turned over, burrowing under the covers. Nothing seemed less appealing than leaving the warm comfort of Jon’s bed. With a sigh and unimaginable willpower, she kicked the covers off and headed to the bathroom.

When she finished, she found Jon in the kitchen. His back was to her and he was dressed in fresh clothes. He held a coffee cup in his hand, the smell permeating the room.

“What time is it?”

Jon turned around to look at her. “It’s early still. I made coffee. Do you want some?”

Sansa walked towards him. “Sure,” she reached for his cup. He raised an eyebrow but handed it to her without comment. She took a small sip, eyeing him over the rim. The side of his lips quirked upward in a half smile.

“I don’t think that was nearly enough sleep,” she yawned.

“We got a good few hours in.”

“Are you a morning person?” Sansa asked him, leaning back against the kitchen counter.

“Not particularly.”

She nodded, taking another sip as Jon took a step closer. “What time should we leave?”

His eyes lingered on her lips. “We still have a little time.”

Sansa couldn’t tell if it was the coffee warming her or the way Jon’s eyes consumed her. “What should we do until then?” she asked under her breath, eyes falling to his lips.

Jon reached for the cup in her hand setting it down next to her. He wrapped an arm around her, lifting her to sit on the edge of the counter. “I can think of a few things,” he murmured dropping to his knees in front of her. 

***

It was still dark outside when they arrived back at her house. Frost clung to blades of grass and a thick layer of fog hovered above the ground. Sansa turned to Jon as he switched the car off. “Are you…coming in?” she ventured.

“I’ll be over in a few hours.”

Inwardly, she let out a sigh of relief. “Okay,” she gave him a small smile and reached for the door handle.

“Wait.”

She turned back to him, eyebrows pulling together. He reached for her, cradling her face with both hands. He touched his lips to hers, softly at first, and then more insistently as the kiss turned from gentle to ravenous. His tongue slipped inside her mouth, teasing her own. He tasted like an intense blend of coffee and _her_. It was a heady mix.

Sansa was breathless when he finally pulled away. “See you soon,” he whispered, flashing a crooked smile. She exited the car in a daze, making her way up the driveway and into the house. She climbed the stairs to her bedroom, carefully listening for any sound from her family.

The first thing she did when she got to her room was strip off the skin-tight dress and thigh high boots. She pulled on a pair of pajama pants and a tank top and crawled into bed. She was asleep before her head even hit the pillow.

***

The smell of her mother’s cooking roused her later that morning. After a quick trip to the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth she headed downstairs, feeing oddly invigorated considering what little sleep she’d had.

Her younger siblings were already seated at the kitchen table, munching away at their breakfast. Her brother Bran had a book cracked open on the table next to him while the youngest, Rickon, was busy repeatedly smashing two of his toy cars into each other.

Arya, her younger sister, was in the process of piling an ungodly amount of food onto her plate, rambling about “protein” and “gains.”

Sansa spotted her mother by the stove, whipping up what had to be her dozenth batch of pancakes. She skipped towards her and kissed her cheek. “Morning,” she sang.

“What are you doing home already? I thought you were supposed to be spending the night at Jeyne’s?”

Sansa reached for a glass out of the nearest cabinet. “I did but Jeyne forgot she had a doctor’s appointment this morning so she dropped me off super early.”

“Oh. Well did you two have a nice girl’s night?”

“Mhm,” she answered, taking a seat at the table.

Her sister’s eyes narrowed into slits. “What’s got you so cheery?” she asked through a mouth full of food.

“Nothing,” Sansa said, straightening under Arya’s scrutiny. “Just slept well, I guess.” Her sister clearly didn’t buy it but luckily, she was saved from further interrogation when her father entered the room, adjusting his tie.

“Good morning my beautiful family,” he said, kissing his wife and patting little Rickon’s head as he rounded the kitchen table to sit at the end.

“Morning, honey,” Catelyn greeted, cracking half a dozen eggs into a large mixing bowl. “How’s the Forrester case coming along? You were up so late pouring over those files last night, you hardly slept at all.” Concern marred her brow.

Ned paused in the midst of drowning his pancakes in syrup. His eyebrows knit together. “Yes, well it’s proving to be a bit more difficult than I’d anticipated.”

Her mother stepped closer to him, resting a hand on his slumped shoulder. “Well I have no doubt you’ll figure it out. You always do.”

Ned smiled at her, the love in his eyes plain to any who saw. He took her hand and brought it to his lips to kiss her knuckles. “Sit down and eat something my love.”

Sansa watched the display in admiration. Her parent’s marriage was not an ostentatious one, it was a quiet love and yet no less strong.

 _Could anyone ever look at me that way?_ She wondered. A deep longing pained her heart. It was all she’d ever really wanted. To have someone that would love her the same way her parents loved one another. _Could I ever?_

Consumed by her melancholic thoughts, Sansa missed the sound of the front door opening. When she looked up from her plate, she inhaled sharply. Like the moon appearing after a dark and clouded night, there was Jon.

“Oh, good morning, Jon. You’re just in time for breakfast.” Catelyn said, turning to place more food in the center of the table.

“Jon, have a seat.” Ned chimed in with a smile. “Hope you’re hungry, Cat’s made enough to feed a small army.”

He smiled, returning their greetings as he occupied the space between Arya and Rickon, directly across from Sansa. “Thank you, but I think I’ll just have some orange juice.”

She picked up her glass and took a drink, wondering at the strange expression dancing around Jon’s face until his eyes met hers and she saw the hint of suggestiveness in them. “I ate pretty well earlier this morning.”

_Seven hells._

Sansa choked, hand flying to her chest as the acid from the orange juice burned her throat. “She’s choking to death!” Rickon yelled.

The entire table watched her oddly as she continued her coughing fit, save Jon who was trying to smother a grin. “Sweetheart, are you alright?” Catelyn asked, worriedly.

“Fine,” Sansa choked out. “Just went down the wrong tube, is all.”

“Careful kiddo, we don’t want to lose you to a glass of orange juice,” her father chuckled.

“Seriously,” Arya snorted, loading her plate with another stack of pancakes. “Drink much?”

Sansa cleared her throat, doing the utmost to regain her bearings. Jon was in the middle of pouring himself a drink but she was certain he could feel the daggers she was shooting his way.

Arya grabbed his attention, mumbling around a mouthful of eggs. “I finally nailed my slapshot. You were right. I was using my wrist too much.”

“Told you. Bet you wish you wouldn’t’ve been so stubborn and listened to me earlier, huh?”

“Oh, shut up,” she grumbled, rolling her eyes. Sansa’s attention drifted as they launched into an in-depth discussion about techniques and whether the Winterfell Wolves had a chance at the playoffs this year.

A wicked thought entered her mind, unexpectedly. Sansa knew this game, she knew how to play it. _If he wants to play, then game on._ Her face a perfect mask, she placed her foot near Jon’s, sending a silent thanks to the gods for blessing her with long legs.

With her bare foot she brushed up against the inside of his ankle. His reaction wasn’t immediately noticeable but she could see him tense as he continued his conversation with her sister. Sansa bit back a smile.

She travelled the length of his calf, leisurely, as if she had all the time in the world. In truth, she had to hand it to him. Outwardly, he was doing remarkably well acting unruffled as the conversation flowed around them. But Sansa knew better.

She could see the way his jaw clenched and unclenched, how his fingers gripped the glass in his hand, the way he steadfastly refused to meet her eyes. It was thrilling, this secret they shared out in the open yet hidden from plain sight. _No wonder he likes to tease me so much._

Feeling coquettish, Sansa pushed further, moving past his knee to the space between his thighs. Using the lightest of pressure, she skimmed over the bulge in his jeans.

Jon picked up his glass of orange juice, his knuckles white with the force he was exerting, and took a gulp. His eyes met hers over the rim and the muscles in her belly clenched.

“Sansa.”

She startled at the sound of her mother’s voice, foot digging into Jon’s crotch. He grunted in pain, which he quickly disguised as a cough. Sansa turned to Catelyn, feeling as if she’d been caught. Her cheeks were on fire.

“Your birthday’s in a couple of days. Have you given any thought to what you want to do?”

“What?” she asked, caught off guard. _Birthday?_ No, she hadn’t given it much thought at all. In fact, she’d forgotten all about it. “Uh, no. I-I’m not sure actually.”

“Well, what are you thinking?” Catelyn asked, cutting up another pancake for Rickon. “Would you like to have a party?”

Sansa looked down at her plate as the question settled in her stomach like a rock. Normally, she’d jump at an opportunity like this but after the events of the past year, nothing sounded less appealing.

She pushed the food on her plate around with her fork as she answered. “No, I think I’d rather do something low-key this year. Maybe go out for dinner or something.”

Her mother’s eyebrows pulled together as she leaned forward. “Honey, are you sure? Eighteen is an important milestone.”

“Cat,” her father began, steadily, “if Sansa wants to stay in on her birthday that’s fine.” He turned to Sansa, a smile crinkling the edges of his eyes. “Why don’t we all go out to that little Italian restaurant you like? How’s that sound?”

Sansa smiled appreciatively at her father and nodded her head. “Well, of course it’s fine,” Catelyn replied, “but you’ve had a birthday party every year since you were a little girl.”

“I know. I just thought I’d try something different this year, you know?”

“Okay sweetheart, if that’s what you want then that’s what we’ll do.” Her mother smiled, though Sansa could tell it took a bit of effort. One of the greatest joys of Catelyn Stark’s life was being able to celebrate her children.

Sansa focused on finishing her breakfast as the conversation ebbed and flowed around her. Bran had pulled his nose out of his book long enough to answer a question Jon had about it and Arya was screeching about the piece of syrup covered pancake that Rickon had lobbed at her while the latter continued to giggle wildly.

“Gods, do you think you guys could be a bit quieter? I feel like my head is about to split open.” Robb ambled into the kitchen with squinty eyes and bedhead, clutching his forehead. He walked towards the kitchen cabinet and began rifling through it. “I need an aspirin. Or six.”

“Gee, Robb,” Arya mocked, “I really wish I could see things from your perspective but I just can’t seem to get my head that far up my ass.”

“Arya!” Catelyn snapped. She swiveled towards her husband who was barely concealing a grin. “Ned?” she urged.

He dropped his smile and cleared his throat. “Arya, watch your mouth.”

“Yeah, watch it. Or I’ll shave your head while you sleep.” Robb swallowed a couple aspirin and took a swig of water from the faucet. When he turned around his eyes fell on Jon. “Where’d you go last night man? You disappeared.”

“Oh, uh—I had some things I had to take care of,” he eluded, careful to avoid Sansa’s gaze.

“I think that might’ve been the right choice,” Robb mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “I’m going back to bed until the sun isn’t so bright anymore.” And with that he strayed from the room and out of sight.

Catelyn looked around the table with a tight smile thanks to Robb’s early morning antics. “Everyone full?”

“Shoot,” Ned muttered, glancing at his watch. “I have to go.” His declaration sent the rest of the table into a flurry of activity as breakfast came to an end. After her father had gone, her mother whipped around, readying the younger kids to leave for the day.

“Sansa, could you finish cleaning up for me? I have to drop Bran off at the Reeds’ on my way to take Arya to hockey practice and then I made an appointment for this one—” she nodded to Rickon as he sat at the table obliviously, “to get a H-A-I-R-C-U-T.”

“Sure.”

“Thanks, sweetie. I’ll be home in a couple of hours,” Catelyn called over her shoulder as she herded Sansa’s siblings out of the kitchen.

The room was empty as Sansa set to clearing away the remaining dishes and leftover food. She wondered where Jon had run off to. He’d slipped out, unnoticed, in the midst of the chaos. _He’s probably icing his crotch._

Sansa couldn’t help giggling as she set the dishes on the counter next to the sink. She shook her head as she thought back on the past twenty-four hours. 

 _What a rollercoaster. Then again, it always is with Jon._ She smiled to herself, feeling an absurd amount of fluttering in her stomach.

“That,” a low voice came from behind her, “was not very nice of you.” Muscled arms appeared on either side of her, trapping her between a warm chest and the kitchen counter.

“Sorry,” she said, sounding anything but.

“Oh, I’m sure.” Jon gathered her hair to one side and pressed a warm kiss to the nape of her neck, making her inhale sharply.

“Serves you right for teasing me.” Her voice came off less indignant and more tremulous.

Jon’s hands encompassed her hips, turning her in place to face him. He leaned in close to her, bumping his nose against hers. “Well, in my defense, you are terribly easy to tease.”

Sansa’s hands fisted in the soft material of his shirt. “And what do you intend to do about my misbehaving, hmm? Punish me?”

Jon’s smile turned wolfish. “Don’t tempt me.”

“Why not?” She asked, feeling brave. “What are you going to do about it?” She cocked her head, looking at him through long black lashes.

His smile never faltered as he leaned in, lips hovering just above hers. “I guess you’ll find out, won’t you?”

And then he pulled away from her completely, leaving her bereft and with an increased heart rate. Sansa pursed her lips, feeling a mixture of irritation and amusement. 

Jon took a few steps back, resting his hip against the counter and crossed his arms. “There’s something I wanted to ask you.”

Funny how an innocuous group of words could kick a heart into overdrive. “Oh?” she swallowed, trying to sound casual.

“I know you said you didn’t want to do anything major for your birthday, but there’s this place I’d really like to show you. If you’d be interested,” he added.

Sansa was taken aback. _He wants to bring me somewhere for my birthday?_ “Where?” she managed to get out.

“That would ruin the surprise,” he smiled. “The only thing is it’s a bit of a drive—more than a bit actually. It’d take most of the day just to get there and back.”

She processed the information, thinking for a moment. “I could…tell my mom that Jeyne planned something for us and that I’m sleeping at her house.”

“Alright,” he pushed off from the counter, strolling towards her. His lips curled as he reached out to lift her chin with his finger. “It’s a date then.” Jon’s lips brushed over the corner of her mouth and then he turned away and walked out of the kitchen, leaving Sansa mystified.

 _A date,_ she repeated in her head. _A date with Jon Snow._


End file.
